Ubi Amor, Ibi Dolor
by Quatermass
Summary: (Inspired by, with permission, deathbearABC123's "Harry Potter and the Berserker", based on my 'Misery Loves Company' and 'Casca's Soul Mate' challenges) Betrayal causes Harry to end up in an unfamiliar world, one where he meets a woman he had only known in his dreams. Joining Casca in the Band of the Hawk at the same time as Guts, Harry's fate becomes intertwined with theirs...
1. Foreword

**FOREWORD**

One of the manga and anime franchises that I had some small interest in, but not quite enough to take the plunge for some time, was _Berserk_. It was mostly due to the actions of another fanfic writer here that I got more into it, though it must be said that hbi2k's Abridged Series also helped. However, here, it was the crossover _Harry Potter and the Berserker_ by deathbearABC123.

I began following their story for some time, before finally favouriting it. I then entered into correspondence with deathbearABC123, as I wished to post a few challenges crossing the Potterverse over with Berserk, and wanted to get some details cleared up, as well as to ensure I wasn't stepping on their toes. As it happened, two of the three challenge ideas were ideas deathbearABC123 considered for their own fic, but they generously allowed me to post them as challenge ideas under the umbrella title of 'A Mage in Midland' in the forums of DZ2 and whitetigerwolf.

This story, then, is based on one of them, 'Casca's Soul Mate', with a Harry/Casca pairing, as well as my 'Misery Loves Company' challenge (because, let's face it, Casca's life prior to meeting Griffith was shit, and I wanted to justify something for when we get to the Eclipse). Many elements of this story were inspired by deathbearABC123, including the Golden Age setting, as well as Schierke's Patronus. Go and read their story, _Harry Potter and the Berserker_ , please. That story needs more love.

Anyway, time for the usual disclaimers. Firstly, there will be spoilers for both Harry Potter and _Berserk_.

Secondly, there will be heavy annotations, as is usual for my works. You have been warned.

Thirdly, this is an M-Rated work. There will be coarse language, violence, and sexual references. Again, you have been warned.

Finally, the following is a fan-written work. Harry Potter and _Berserk_ are the properties of their respective owners. Please support the official release. Otherwise, Guts will cut you in half with his big-ass sword…


	2. Prologue: The End is the Beginning is

**PROLOGUE:**

 **THE END IS THE BEGINNING IS THE END**

The house had the sense of age about it, everything wood and rustic…but it also had a sense of, well, home to it, a welcoming nature to it, despite the accoutrements of magic around it. Emerald eyes flashing behind glasses and darker eyes, both ringed by hollow sockets, took in the sights. "Beats a gingerbread house," the owner of the emerald eyes, a young man with a messy thatch of black hair, remarked.

The dark-skinned woman he was with snorted. Her hair was cut boyishly short, but there was no mistaking her gender. Still, despite being about the young man's age, her face seemed even more haggard, almost aged beyond its years. "If they really wanted us dead, they would have let that golem pulp us."

"Come on," the short figure they were following said, a little peevishly. She had short green hair, and seemed dressed in traditional witches' gear, complete with pointed hat. The effect made her seem endearing rather than sinister, though her attitude was far more serious than any girl her age had a right to be.

"We've been travelling quite a while," the young man said. "We need to rest. Especially as during the night…well, it's hard for either of us to sleep. So excuse us if we're a bit slow."

The green-haired girl turned and shot him a look, before continuing on, muttering under her breath to a small, glowing figure with wings. They were finally brought to one room in particular, where an elderly woman was working at a spinning wheel. The woman had been a great beauty once, and even now, her features were gentle and maternal, not to mention serene.

The young man stood up a little straighter. Eventually, he said, a little lamely, "Hi. My friend and I were in the area, and we wondered if you wanted to discuss religion."

The girl looked irritated, but the older woman smiled a little. "If that truly were the case, the golems would have shown you the door. One of the advantages of having a secluded home such as this is that proselytisers are hard-pressed to find it."

"Okay, you got me there. I'm Harry."

"And I am Casca," the dark-skinned woman said.

The elderly woman nodded. "A pleasure to meet you both. I am Flora, the Mistress of the Spirit Tree, and this is my apprentice, Schierke, as well as her friend, Ivalera the Elf. I have awaited your arrival for some time. A wizard from another realm…and a woman branded by evil. You have gone through much to come here."

"…You know about the brand?" Casca asked, her hand unconsciously reaching up to her chest, her breath becoming a little quicker until Harry's hand gently clasped over her other hand. She very nearly jerked her hand away out of reflex, but stilled.

Flora nodded. "You need not fear the advent of evil near this place. It is protected, even from those drawn to people branded with the mark of sacrifice."

Harry sighed quietly in relief. "…Thank Merlin. I was worried we'd have to defend you from those things that come after us, but…wait, you know I come from another world?"

"If I didn't before, I do now. After all, Merlin is a name I have not heard of for some time," Flora said. "In any case, a mutual acquaintance told me of your coming."

Harry and Casca shot each other looks, before the former said, "Are we talking someone who loves giving ominous and enigmatic utterances, and looks like he needs a heavy dairy diet to, you know, keep his bones healthy?"

Once more, Flora smiled. "I believe we are. But it is getting late. Perhaps we should discuss what path you have travelled down, and why it has brought you here, tomorrow…"

* * *

Schierke had objected somewhat to their presence, but Flora had overridden the objections of her apprentice and Ivalera, albeit gently. Schierke had escorted them to a bedroom reluctantly, making it clear that, to her, they were here on sufferance. Harry had an urge to prank her, but it was the first time in some time that he and Casca had a proper bedroom. True, wizarding tents were handy, but there was only so much they could do against the malicious entities drawn by the brand on her.

He also knew he'd have to ask Flora and Schierke if they had any ingredients for potions, particularly Dreamless Sleep. Casca needed that on a regular basis, ever since that day when everything turned upside down. When they were betrayed by the man they had tried to rescue, a hollow shell that made a deal to become a demon.

The day of the Eclipse.

Harry and Casca slept in separate beds when they had beds at all these days. While she didn't experience all of what happened to her during the Eclipse, what she had seen up to the point when Griffith, or rather, Femto, began his vile work on her was enough to give her nightmares. The woman who had endured the horrors visited upon her home village, and who had witnessed all manner of acts of brutality and violence in war, had seen the stuff of nightmares…no, things that surpassed nightmares. A hellish landscape of faces. Demonic Apostles gathering. The Godhand, a quartet of grotesque demons who, on that day, became a quintet. The massacre of her friends and comrades.

Harry selfishly felt glad he didn't have to witness that at all, that, in the rush to retrieve Griffith, he had been ordered by Casca to look after the princess who'd helped them retrieve Griffith. But most of him felt guilty, because he couldn't save his comrades…though perhaps he may have suffered the same fate as most of them. After all, of the members of the Band of the Hawk, only four were still alive…five if you counted the demon Griffith had become. Rickert and Harry had the debatably good fortune to be out of the hell the Eclipse brought down upon the world. Guts and Casca survived…but not untouched.

Casca was branded with a mark that basically acted as a dinner gong to evil spirits, and subsequently raped by the demonic reincarnation of the man she once idolised. But she retained her sanity, or most of it anyway. She could have retreated inwards, but instead, she retreated away, through the bond she shared with Harry's soul.

Guts now lacked an eye and an arm, and like Casca, had been branded. What was more, Griffith's betrayal had wounded his very soul. As indeed it had done with all of them.

Harry and Casca had parted ways with Guts, on differing missions. Guts had set his mind on slaughtering as many of the demonic Apostles as he could, intending to slaughter his way to Griffith. Harry and Casca, meanwhile, were searching for their own answers, trying to find some way to, if not heal the brands, then mitigate their effects, as well as research their enemy.

It was a journey that led them here, to the domicile of a witch of some renown in the area. A long and dangerous one, punctuated by demons and spirits dogging their step.

One thing that hurt them both was the loss of intimacy. Since Casca being made into Femto's plaything during the Eclipse, she understandably became more skittish towards personal contact. The pair of them used to sleep together, both literally, as well as the more carnal sense of the term. But now, it was hard for Casca to allow Harry to be close. More than once, she had lashed out in a blind panic while asleep. Even in her waking hours, she recoiled a little from his touch, not because merely of the touch, but because of the intimacy. But…she still felt comforted by his presence all the same, knowing that, despite what was done to her, he would never abandon her…

* * *

They rose early, thankfully untroubled by nightmares for once, and they went outside. It had become a ritual for them, especially for Casca. She practised with her sword, her dark eyes focused on some imaginary foe, presumably Griffith. Harry, meanwhile, used his staff, a staff that had a retractable spear blade in it.

As they continued, they knew they were being watched. Harry finished his own practise, before turning to find Schierke and Ivalera peering at them. "Don't sneak up on people wielding weapons," he said, retracting the spear blade. "Even if they're just practising."

"You're a wizard…and yet you're fighting like that?" Schierke asked, curious and yet sceptical.

"I tried to avoid the attention of the Holy See and those idiot Spanish Inquisition wannabes," Harry said. "I used magic only when I was sure I could get away with it…or if we needed it. So, I had to train in a hurry. Even then, the Band of the Hawk gained a reputation for witchcraft, especially Griffith. I think he enjoyed messing with the minds of those idiots. Then again, I think he enjoyed messing with a lot of people's minds. I think I know why I like Guts better."

Casca snorted as she swung her sword. "Because you both enjoyed being reckless, anti-authoritarian and lacked subtlety?"

"Amongst other things. Anyway, you're one to talk about recklessness. Or did that battle with Adon slip your mind? I ask you, going off to battle in your condition…you're a badass fighter, Cas, you didn't need to prove it. Not to Griffith, not to Guts, and certainly not to me."

"Well, we don't trust you!" Ivalera snapped, the Elf (well, pixie in Harry's mind) crossing her arms.

"Probably wise," Casca said bitterly. "Most of the people who trusted us died. And the person we trusted the most sold us out for _power_." With a sudden scream of anger, Casca slammed her sword into a nearby tree.

"Cas…you'll ruin your sword," Harry said gently. "Besides, what did that poor tree ever do to you?"

Her anger subsiding for now, Casca shook her head, a faint smirk touching her lips, albeit a tired and hollow one. "Sorry, it looked too much like Adon for my liking."

"Huh." Harry looked over at the tree, his hands on his hips, and scrutinised it, before saying, "Nah. This tree's much better looking, even before Guts and I rearranged his face."

Casca snorted, actually laughing. Like her smirk, it was tired and hollow, but it still felt more genuine. "You're right." She turned to Schierke, walking over to the small girl as Harry discreetly cast a spell at the tree to heal it, and kneeling down in front of her. "How long have you been living here, Schierke?"

"…As long as I can remember," the witch girl admitted reluctantly.

"Then you probably don't know what the world is like out there, save through books. I hope you keep your innocence longer than I did." A bittersweet smile touched the dark-skinned woman's lips. "If you are lucky, you don't have to experience war or demons in any way, save for in what books you have here. I envy that, actually." And with that, she went back inside.

As Harry approached, Schierke said, quietly, "What have you two been going through?"

"I'd say Hell…but really, only Cas can say that she's actually been through it," the emerald-eyed wizard said. "But we've both been through a lot. Now, once I've made some breakfast, I'll need to ask your teacher a few questions…"

* * *

Flora nodded as she finished examining the brand on Casca's breast. "Yes, I can seal it away. So too can Schierke," the elderly witch said. "However, the seal is temporary, if only because the ink would eventually wash away. If you wish, I could teach you how to draw the seal yourself, Harry. It's rather intricate, but given your own magic…"

"I'm grateful, Lady Flora," Harry said.

"Just Flora will do," the elderly witch said, as Casca shifted her tunic back into place. "Still, I'm sure you have many questions."

"Many, many questions," Casca said. "But…the two most important ones are…what is a Behelit, and what are the Godhand?"

"Yes, very important questions they are indeed," Flora said. "A Behelit…consider it a key, a dark fetish used to summon greater powers. Namely, the Godhand. They are known to us who research matters of magic and other planes. Once human, but they sacrificed to make themselves something both more than human, and yet less. They are the agents of a power greater than themselves. Most Behelits allow the user to become an Apostle…but one type of Behelit allows the user to become one of the Godhand themselves."

"The Crimson Behelit," Harry murmured. "No wonder Zodd was so surprised…no wonder he was laughing his horned head off. Prophecy my arse, he knew that someone given that ugly, tacky piece of crap would end up summoning them sooner or later."

"I believe you speak of the infamous Nosferatu Zodd," Flora said. "And I noticed you had issues with prophecies. You had one hanging over your head too, didn't you?"

"…Another life, another time, another world," Harry said bitterly. "We came here for a few reasons. The first is to give us time to recover, maybe find a way of removing the brand, but…can it be removed?" Flora shook her head. "Figures. The second was to learn ways of getting stronger. I'd like to think of myself as a strong mage, but against Apostles, I struggle. And it's inevitable that we'll fight them again. Therefore, I wished to learn from someone of some renown, and I heard of you once in passing. And it's not just magic, but any lore about Apostles and the Godhand. Anything that might tell of any weaknesses. Lady Flora, I know you already have a student, but I ask you, please teach me as well."

"And why do you desire to better your skills?"

"…Revenge for one thing, I can't deny that. But to protect others is another. An old friend of mine used to say I have a saving people thing." He looked at Casca. "Cas can look after herself most of the time, but nobody can do that by themselves all the time. And there are plenty of people out there who need help. I thought I was doing that with the Band of the Hawk. Now I'm not so sure. A lot of what we did has probably been undone because Griffith…never mind."

He didn't want to start that argument up again, the one where Casca blamed Guts defeating Griffith as the catalyst for Griffith sleeping with Princess Charlotte, and the mess that caused. Casca did eventually get over that, but Harry got the feeling it was still a sore point for her. And as much as Harry got along with Guts, the brutish warrior's defeat of Griffith did cause, inadvertently, the problems that followed.

Guts' problem was that he was, to some degree, intensely self-centred. Of course, so too was Griffith, as they had learned, long before the Eclipse, but Guts made no attempt to pretty up his nature. He'd gladly help out an ally, but he paid little heed to the consequences of his actions. He was a blunt instrument. Not that he was stupid, but he was reckless and impulsive to a degree even Harry flinched at.

Still, he had come back to help them at their request when they had been hunted by the King's forces. And without Guts, Casca would never have been able to escape the hellish realm they had been trapped in…well, Guts and the Skull Knight.

"I don't know whether it is of any help, but I can teach you, or at least your apprentice, the magic that comes from my world," Harry added. "If there's anything I can do that she cannot, then I will gladly teach her. It may not be equivalent exchange, but…"

"What can you possibly teach me?" Schierke asked. While there was a slight edge of disdain and distrust to her voice, it was more genuine curiosity and puzzlement.

"I don't know. But I'm guessing you'll be teaching me as much as your own teacher, and whatever I can teach you, I will. A Patronus, perhaps?"

"A what?" Schierke asked.

And with that, Harry smiled. He gathered every good memory he could think of, in his times at Hogwarts, and his times in the Band of the Hawk. The one that stood out most was that time he and Casca kissed, not the first time they had kissed, but not long afterwards, when they admitted their love. And with a cry of "EXPECTO PATRONUM!", a blast of silvery misty light emanated from his staff, coalescing into the form of a magnificent stag that trotted around the room.

He could see the sheer awe reflected in the eyes of Schierke, and even Ivalera. And Flora was smiling her own smile, though it seemed somewhat melancholy as well. He knew his own smile, and that of Casca, had a tinge of bittersweetness to them.

But they were alive. They were surviving. And they still had each other. That was what mattered…

* * *

 **OPENING**

 **SONG:** ** _The End is the Beginning is the End_** **by the Smashing Pumpkins**

 _As the opening chords begin, we travel through a dark, moonlit landscape, eventually focusing on a trio of figures surrounded by shadowy and demonic figures: a post-Eclipse Guts, a rather haggard and intense but lucid Casca, and Harry Potter, about the same age as the other two, wielding what looks like a simple staff. As the three of them fight, the screen is obscured by flames Harry summons, showing the title of the story as the lyrics begin_.

The sewers belch me out,

The heavens spit me out,

From aethers tragic, I am born again…

 _Harry seems to fall into dark waters, which flip and become the sky above Midland, from which he plummets. His eyes open up wide and we zoom in on them into darkness_ …

And now I'm with you now,

Inside your world of wow,

To move in desires made of deadly pretends,

Until the end times begin.

 _We cut to Harry riding alongside Guts and Casca, pre-Eclipse, before shifting to see the landscape of Midland. Then, we see Griffith speaking to Charlotte as he did about the nature of friendship after he sent Guts to kill Julius, before he clasps his Crimson Behelit, which we zoom in on. The facial features suddenly rearrange themselves, and it begins screaming, before we zoom in on its mouth_.

Is it bright where you are?

Have the people changed?

Does it make you happy

You're so strange?

 _We see key members of the Band of the Hawk: Judeau, Pippin, Corkus, and Rickert. Then, the King, Charlotte, the Queen and Julius. Then, we see Harry and Casca kissing, while Guts looks on with a wistful, even melancholy smile_.

And in your darkest hour,

I hold secrets flame.

You can watch the world

Devoured in its pain…

 _We watch the sun being devoured by the Eclipse, then a flash of the Skull Knight attacking Zodd. And Harry conjuring flames, illuminating the hellish landscape summoned by the Behelit. He, Guts and Casca are back to back, surrounded by Apostles (doesn't actually happen in the story, but it's the opening), before they look up, to see the gathered Godhand, including the newly-born Femto, the latter peering down at them coldly_.

Strange…

Strange…

 _We see Harry, Casca and Guts, like they were in the opening, fighting demons together, albeit within the hellish realm brought about by the Eclipse, before we finally see the aftermath of the opening, the older trio walking away from a small mountain of dismembered demonic corpses_ …

 **PROLOGUE ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Wow. So, any good?**

 ** _The End is the Beginning is the End_** **belongs to the Smashing Pumpkins and is probably one of the better things to come about as a result of** ** _Batman and Robin_** **. Obviously, I don't own the lyrics or the song. The fact that I chose the song for the 'opening' as well as the chapter title was a happy coincidence. I did the chapter title first, and realised, the song actually matched what I wanted for the opening.**

 **No numbered annotations this time.**


	3. Chapter 1: An Auspicious Meeting

**CHAPTER 1:**

 **AN AUSPICIOUS MEETING**

 _It had been a couple of weeks since they started living at the Spirit Tree. Harry had written to Guts via the enchanted diaries he had set up for them, thanking Padfoot for leaving him that information. He knew that Guts needed something anchoring him to reality, in case his obsession with revenge on Griffith got him killed._

 _Not that Harry and Casca didn't share that desire for revenge. Harry had only witnessed the horror of the Eclipse first-hand at the last moment, when he rode in with the Skull Knight into that maelstrom…and into Hell. He remembered the sheer unadulterated fury he felt as he saw Femto bent over Casca's vacant body, Guts struggling to free himself from the Apostles in his own blinding rage. Casca's soul had fled her body as Femto, the demon formerly known as Griffith, violated her. Harry's mind had been a sanctuary. And her disgust and horror and trauma merged with his…and with it, their anger._

 _He remembered Femto looking at them coldly, his icy blue eyes now turned to fiery red. He remembered seeing the bizarre forms of Ubik and Conrad with their distorted faces, the grotesquely sensuous form of Slan, and the hideous face of Void, with its lack of skin, the bulging brain, and the sewn-up eyes. The bodies of their allies, lying in a hideous pool of blood and viscera. The Apostles capering around a landscape made of screaming faces._

 _Anger had boiled up within him, united with Casca, and even though his soul wasn't linked to Guts', the swordsman's own anger still fuelled Harry's own. And with that anger, came power. He remembered pointing his staff at them, watching the amusement on the faces of the Godhand, those who could or would smile, and the Apostles jeering at him. Until he uttered a single world._

 _"_ _ **FIENDFYRE!**_ _"_

 _His attack did little more than amuse the Godhand. He doubted he did more than singe their nostril hairs, not in this reality that was their hellish home. The Apostles, though…they were another story. A few the cursed flames consumed utterly. A few others ended up badly burned. Of course, others dodged it, or weathered the diabolical fire with contemptuous ease._

 _Harry poured everything he could into those flames. It wasn't just his wrath, but that of Casca and Guts. What had been a bloody hell became a burning hell, his comrades in the Band of the Hawk, Pippin, Judeau, Corkus and the others, gaining a funeral pyre._

 _He barely remembered what happened next, partly because he had exhausted himself magically, and passed in and out of consciousness for a week afterwards, only that the Skull Knight had managed to pull them out of there. Seeing Rickert. Heading to the forge of Godo, Guts' old friend and blacksmith. Finding Charlotte there, transported by the Portkey he had left her with. The recriminations and arguments that followed. Casca struggling to deal with what had been done to her body (he hadn't been conscious during that grotesque birth). Charlotte's initial refusal to believe what Griffith had done. Eventually, a parting of ways. A long and arduous journey, chasing a rumour, chased by evil, leading to this place._

 _Only now were they beginning to settle down. Flora had accepted them quite readily, Schierke…well, it took her a while longer. Though she was also surprised that Harry and Casca were willing to learn from a little girl. But Harry told her why: Schierke reminded him of Hermione. Her studiousness, her bossiness, her intelligence._

 _Schierke was actually touched by the comparison. Not because she knew of Hermione, but also because she was actually being asked to teach Harry more magic. There was even a possibility that Casca could learn some herself. Apparently magic could be learned by virtually anyone here, as long as they had the right mindset. Casca was certainly eager for the distraction after Flora revealed what they had suspected…that Femto's actions had rendered Casca barren. Not that she would have definitely had kids one day…but maybe she may have. With Guts and Griffith as godfathers, Pippin and Judeau as uncles, Rickert as a big brother, and Corkus…well, being a disreputable sort, as usual._

 _Yet another thing Femto had stolen from them. Yet another reason, if any be needed, to avenge themselves on him._

 _Harry was carefully carving his new magic staff when Schierke sat down next to him. Casca was getting the seal on her brand re-done today by Flora, and Harry saw fit to give them privacy. The staff he had used before was mostly out of convenience, based on what little runework he had learned from Hermione and the notes left behind by Sirius. Flora, however, had encouraged Harry to make a better one, with the ancient witch (she hinted at being at least centuries old if not more) giving him some pointers. And whittling the piece of wood was therapeutic._

 _"Hey," he said to the young witch. "Nothing gone wrong?"_

 _Schierke shook her head. "No. But, while speaking to Mistress Flora, Casca mentioned something. She said…she had been having dreams about you since a young age. And you of her. She said something about a soul bond. That…it was how she survived what happened during the Eclipse, mentally. But soul bonds, especially of that type, they're rare. And to have them between two people from two different worlds…it's unheard of. If you never travelled to this world…the bond would never have strengthened."_

 _"…Maybe that's how I came to this world in the first place. I had an accident…well, of sorts. I'd angered the wrong people, well, Goblins. They were annoyed because, well, I broke into their bank to destroy one of those Horcruxes I told you and Flora about. They hired some thugs to attack me and mine. I'd already sent my friends to safety…but they hit my Portkey with a spell. I remember being thrown through a void…and then, I ended up nearly drowning in a lake. I was lucky I had supplies with me, ready to escape abroad. But…I wasn't happy. Still…maybe the soul bond saved me, by bringing me to this world. If the Godhand are the tools of a greater power, then that power would be evil, or at least destructive and sadistic. But maybe the soul bond, and bringing me here to Casca…maybe there's a power opposing that behind the Godhand. Because without that soul bond…I don't know what would have happened to Casca."_

 _Harry thought back to how they first met. If he had known what their eventual fate would be, what Griffith would do to them, he wouldn't have agreed. But he couldn't have known, and speculating about what he could have done did little. Besides, he had been in a bad way, and latching onto the Band of the Hawk as a means to belong…well, few could blame him, right?_

* * *

Not for the first time, Harry cursed the Goblins' hired goons for attacking his Portkey just as it activated. The nearly nineteen year old wizard shouted expletive after expletive into the uncaring heavens until he was on the verge of hoarseness. Then again, being stranded with few supplies in what seemed to be a medieval fantasy world he knew little about, even after several weeks' wandering, was rather trying. He was used to hardship, true, and compared to being on the run from Voldemort, or living with the Dursleys, this was a relative doddle…physically, anyway.

But he had been torn away from his friends. He'd sent them on ahead, sending them to other countries who refused to recognise Gringotts' jurisdiction. Those ungrateful little shits didn't care that he had broken in to destroy a Horcrux, not steal any treasure. No, it was out of wounded pride from the fact that he had broken in. And there were plenty of former Death Eaters the Goblins could hire to do their dirty work.

However, it was when he learned the name of this country, Midland, that he became surprised. Because it was a name he had heard from an imaginary friend he had seen only in his dreams. A strong girl, a feisty girl, one who had seen more than her fair share of suffering. He thought her an imaginary friend thrown up by his mind, to give him someone to talk to when he still slept in the cupboard under the stairs…but now, he wasn't so sure. Not unless this was a dying delusion.

Anyway, Midland was currently at war with another called Chuder. A bit of petty dick-waving with lethal consequences that had been going on for a century now, taking with it a heavy toll in human life and sanity. He'd skirted the edge of many a battlefield, intervening only when he thought it necessary. More than once, he had killed soldiers who had decided to rape some civilians near him. He killed them, left half of any money he found on them with their living victims, and took the rest for himself.

He just hoped he wasn't going to get a reputation as a folk hero. He'd had enough of that. He didn't mind playing the hero, it was something ingrained into his soul. But he didn't want the reputation that came with it. And in any case, he'd had enough playing nice. Playing nice got him a gratitude with a half-life on a par with the transuranic elements (Hermione's words, not his), and his enemies mostly alive to stab him in the back, despite everything he had done.

Plus, apparently the local religion had issues against magic. Because why not? So he still had to be careful, if not more so, just in case the Holy See invited him to a barbeque.

He wasn't really sticking to main roads, instead crossing verdant fields strewn with boulders. Bandits, after all, had a bad habit of ambushing people there, and he was getting bored of stripping them of their memories, clothes and monies whenever they tried to rob him. He'd only just finished carving a staff, as a very crude magic focus (his last wand having snapped when he came here), as well as a walking stick. And a bludgeon, if need be.

He heard the whinnying of horses in the distance, and grimaced. Bandits…or soldiers, mercenary or not. Maybe if he was lucky, they would be friendly enough to let him by.

As he mounted one rise, he saw a group of horse riders (bandits?) surrounding a single swordsman. The aftermath of an earlier battle was apparent, with at least two riders down, one rolling around, clutching the stump of an arm. The swordsman was about to attack one of the horse riders whose steed was rearing up in fear, until another horse rider fired a crossbow into the swordsman's arm.

Harry very nearly veered away, until he realised something. A little way away, he could see a small group of soldiers, no, mercenaries, and a flag that seemed familiar. The Band of the Hawk, he realised.

He began running towards the battle, swiftly healing one of the fallen riders, who was on the verge of bleeding out from a bad gash to his side. Admittedly, Harry's knowledge of healing magic was shaky, and he wasn't sure whether the man would survive. Healing the man's stump was easier: he couldn't reattach the arm, but he could ensure the guy survived.

"Hey, who the fuck are you?!" demanded a rather ratty-looking man on a horse, before he looked over, and yelped, "Casca!" Harry whirled to see the crossbow wielder fall off their horse, the swordsman having severed the rear legs of the animal. The rider got up shakily, the helmet falling off their head, revealing a face Harry had only known from his dreams.

Dark hair, cut boyishly short. Her skin brown. She was only a few years his junior, but she looked older. Her frame slender but athletic.

 _Casca_.

He stood there, staring, as she attacked the swordsman, who seemed initially startled by the attack, or perhaps that his assailant was a woman. But he eventually began fighting back, brutally and viciously, apparently lacking any qualms about fighting a girl. Casca was on the defensive, and then, she tripped and fell onto her back, the swordsman bringing his sword up into an overhead swing to administer the _coup de grace_.

For all his desire to conceal his magic, he still had his saving people thing. He knew he was going to regret this, but still…

With that in mind, he flung out a hand. "ACCIO, _CASCA!_ "

With a yelp of surprise, Casca zoomed towards him, dragged along the grass, just as a spear dug into the ground between her enemy's feet. Everyone, even the swordsman who had been about to kill her, stared as she sped along the ground towards Harry, skidding to a halt in front of him. He knelt down next to her, checking her.

"…You know you just upstaged me?"

This voice was a soft, gentle, but masculine one that carried, from a figure wearing elaborate armour, astride a white horse. He wore a strange helmet that vaguely looked like a predatory bird. A name came to Harry from a discussion in a dream he had with the girl he had just saved. _Griffith_.

"You're welcome for saving one of your best soldiers," Harry called back.

"Arsehole," Casca muttered from where she sat on the ground, shooting him a venomous look with her dark eyes. But then, she did a double take, dark eyes meeting emerald ones. "…Impossible," she whispered.

"That's not a very nice thing to say, Cas," Harry said. "I mean being an arsehole. I know I'm impossible. And improbable." Harry looked up, just in time to see the swordsman they had been attacking lash out at Griffith, only for Griffith to, improbably, block the massive sword with a sabre. The swordsman was clearly surprised, and was unprepared for Griffith's swift counterattack, the sabre jabbing into his chest. With a startled gasp, the man toppled over like a felled tree. Griffith looked down at him dispassionately, taking off his helmet.

Harry had to admit, Griffith was…unusual. If he hadn't heard his voice earlier, he would have believed Griffith to be a woman, with those delicate facial features, the full lips, the long tresses of bluish-white hair, and the pale blue eyes. Griffith then looked at Harry, and then at the men Harry had healed, noting the lack of blood coming from the stump of the man who lost his arm. "…Heal this one too, please." He indicated the swordsman. "Keep him under if you can."

"…He was trying to kill you and your men."

"And he was doing rather well, considering. My men are very good. I'm hoping he'd be amenable to an offer once tempers have cooled."

"…Your funeral," Harry said, healing the swordsman and placing a sleeping charm on him as insurance. Harry realised, despite the man's brutish features and the scar across his nose, he was actually about the same age as himself, or maybe as young as Griffith and Casca. It was hard to tell.

He had no way of knowing it, but this was an auspicious occasion. One that would grant him new friends and comrades…and even someone he would one day come to love. Days of tragedy, horror, laughter and life lay ahead, all in the Band of the Hawk…

 **CHAPTER 1 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **So, after more story from the future, we finally see how Harry almost literally stumbled his way into the Band of the Hawk.**

 **I've actually got a nice little soundtrack built up in my head for this fic. Aside from the opening in the prologue, here's some ideas. I did this before for my first fanfic, my** ** _Final Fantasy VII_** **crossover** ** _Harry Potter and the Cetra Heritage_** **(plug, plug), and so I'm doing it again. The image song is basically a song with lyrics, while the theme itself is a general leitmotif.**

 **Harry's Image Song:** ** _The Best is Yet to Come_** **from** ** _Metal Gear Solid_** **, Donna Burke version.**

 **Weary Wizard (Harry's Theme):** ** _Journey of the Sorcerer_** **by the Eagles.**

 **Casca's Image Song:** ** _Slingshot_** **by Trocadero.**

 **Never Feel Helpless Again (Casca's Theme):** ** _Theme of Laura_** **from** ** _Silent Hill 2_** **.**

 **Guts' Image Song:** ** _Short Change Hero_** **by the Heavy.**

 **My Blade is My Bond (Guts' Theme):** ** _EMIYA_** **from** ** _Fate/Stay Night: Unlimited Blade Works_** **.**

 **Griffith's Image Song:** ** _The World is Not Enough_** **by Garbage (the lyrics are surprisingly fitting).**

 **Ambition (Griffith's Theme):** ** _Rei I_** **from** ** _Neon Genesis Evangelion_** **.**

 **If you guys want some justification for said themes, I'll do them in another chapter.**

 **No numbered annotations this time.**


	4. Chapter 2: A First Meeting of Old

**CHAPTER 2:**

 **A FIRST MEETING OF OLD FRIENDS**

This was an impossibility. This seemed like something out of some fairy tale, or some silly ballad sung by some cut-rate minstrel. And yet, in a moment when she was going to die, a friend she had thought little more than a particularly vivid figment of her imagination had yanked her away from the brink of death. Those emerald eyes flashing behind glasses, that lightning bolt scar half-hidden by his messy black hair…and there was the fact that he had saved her with magic. He had saved the others with magic. And he used that name only he had ever called her, that only he had the right to call her, not even Griffith.

 _Cas_.

They spent the journey to their next camp in silence. Where could they begin? Where should they begin? " _Hi there, Harry. I thought you were a hallucination, an imaginary friend, a wizard from another world who claimed to have slain a snake that can kill you with a look, faced off against a dragon, oh, and had a rather persistent warlock as a nemesis. And yet, you saved me and my comrades with magic that, if we caught the notice of the Holy See, we'd end up invited to a barbeque. And how_ _ **are**_ _you, by the way?_ "

Certainly, many of the members of the Band of the Hawk were quieter than usual, many shooting glances at Harry, especially Corkus. And Corkus NOT running off his mouth was unusual. Oh, those suspicious glances he shot Harry weren't unusual, but they were usually accompanied by suspicious mutterings. Maybe he was thinking to himself. Wow, Corkus actually _thinking_ , would miracles ever cease?

She stole a glance at Harry, who was riding in a wagon with the unconscious body of that damned swordsman that Griffith wanted brought with them. As angry as she was with the swordsman, not to mention a touch resentful at Griffith's decision (she may respect the man, even adore him and worship him, but it didn't stop her from having issues with his decisions), she had to admit, he was an excellent fighter. Reckless, little more than a skilled berserker, but she had to concede that his fight against Bazuso the Grey Knight was impressive. And looking back at her fight against him, she noticed he had a lot of presence of mind: the moment he got shot with the crossbow she wielded, he took it into account, and used his sword stance to shield against another bolt, if only to his face and upper torso. So he had a brain as well as brute strength, even if it was singularly tailored to killing something.

Even in her anger, there was a small part of her that felt some pity for the brute. He was only their age, and the scar across his nose was old enough to tell that he had been fighting for his life since about the same time she and Griffith started. As infuriating and hateful that this grunt was, there was just something about him that piqued her interest, if only because she wanted to know precisely what had piqued Griffith's.

Harry, after a moment, seemed to succumb to boredom, and reached into a bag he had with him, before pulling out a rather thick tome, one that had a glossy cover with a beautiful painting on the front. She peered at the words of the title: _The Lord of the Rings_. On her look, he said, "It's a long ride, and thankfully, I'm not driving. You can read it later, Cas."

"…You got any booze in there?" Corkus asked.

"For medicinal purposes," Harry said.

"Smartarse," Corkus sneered.

Harry merely ignored him. And Corkus, for now, decided to let matters rest. Casca, however, frowned. The book was large enough to take up a good portion of the bag Harry had had on his back, enough to potentially displace vital supplies like food or a tent, as she saw no evidence of the latter. He had what looked like a flask made of colourful, glossy material, with a symbol that looked like a tick, and the word 'NIKE' on it. She guessed that was for water.

And she noticed Griffith's scrutiny of Harry. Only Griffith knew of Casca's imaginary friend, something told to him in confidence. Griffith had taken it in his stride, as he did most things. Then again, considering that creepy Behelit thing he kept around with him…Casca didn't like that blood-coloured bauble with the seemingly randomly-placed facial features. Hell, she could have sworn that once, she saw one of the closed eyes open, and peer at her balefully with a blue eye. The only reason why she didn't take the thing away and throw it into the nearest lake or ravine was that she knew how much her commander treasured the ugly little thing…

* * *

They eventually made camp, with Harry rolling out his own tent, and setting it up. It looked fairly basic, even if the material felt strange to Casca as she tweaked some of the material between her fingers. It was thin and glossy, and she was unsure how this would keep water from leaking inside.

"Cas, I know you guys wouldn't have plastic on your world, but please stop fondling it, otherwise, you'll have to take it out to dinner," Harry said as he looked on, amused.

Casca grimaced. "Did you need to put that so crudely? I hear enough vulgar jokes from the men."

"…Okay, good point. Are you seriously the only woman here?"

"The only one who fights," Casca said. "We occasionally have washerwomen and…those whose profession is for pleasure."

"Oh, sex workers," Harry said. "And this being a time when contraception isn't a thing…yeah. VD and pregnancies abound." He looked disturbed at this. Casca realised with a start that his sympathies were with the women. She knew this wasn't the norm. At best, whores were objects of pity, not compassion. Quietly, he asked, "Does Griffith allow any of his soldiers to rape any women?"

"No. Any who do are executed on the spot. Even Corkus knows to just go and visit a brothel."

Harry nodded solemnly. "Good. I've dealt with a few soldiers who thought they could do what they liked with women."

"Yes, I heard of that," came the voice of Griffith as he approached.

Harry leapt into the air. "Merlin's balls! Give a guy some warning! What are you, an albino ninja?"

"…Ninja?" Griffith asked. "In any case, we happened to pass through the Kaliss farmstead sometime after you did. I spoke to them while asking about supplies, and they spoke of a young man with raven black hair, green eyes and glasses, with a lightning bolt shaped scar. One who had used magic to save them from deserters. It took some coaxing to get that much out of them, though, given their fear that the Holy See would throw their saviour onto a bonfire. I have a somewhat more open mind, or at least a pragmatic one, where magic is concerned. Casca tells me that your name is Harry Potter. I am in your debt for helping save the lives of my comrades, Harry. Sadly, I may have to ask for your indulgence for a further period. A healer as good as you is a rare thing." He looked at Casca, and smiled. "Besides, given how much you seem to mean to Casca, I would think that you'd want a chance to catch up. Casca, I need you to keep an eye on our new friends. Especially the swordsman. I have the feeling that Corkus and his men may be insubordinate and try to attack him."

Casca fought down a flare of annoyance. Not at being with Harry, but rather, having to play babysitter to the brute who had nearly killed her. She was admittedly somewhat angrier at Corkus, but she couldn't take it out on him, other than berating and a light beating. She was an army commander, not a bully. In any case, apparently Judeau and Pippin were handling that…

* * *

"Get me down from here!" Corkus screamed, as he hung upside down from a tree, stripped to his smallclothes, and with the words _I'm a greedy fuckwit_ scrawled in ink across his bare chest.

The massive form of Pippin crossed his arms. "Take your punishment like a man," the giant rumbled. "Maybe the blood rushing to your head might get you to actually _think_."

 _Well_ , Pippin reflected a few seconds later, _it certainly got the belligerent former bandit to think of more swear words to hurl at me_ …

* * *

Casca stared around the interior of the tent…only, the inside seemed closer to a small but richly furnished house (Harry joked that she was in the TARDIS, whatever that was, as he brought in the swordsman's supine body). But many of the furnishings seemed alien to her. Harry went over to one squat device on a desk, and pressed down on part of it. There was a click, and then, after a moment, to her astonishment, music came from it. Eerie ethereal music, before someone began singing…

 _We passed upon the stair,_

 _We spoke of was and when,_

 _Although I wasn't there,_

 _He said I was his friend,_

 _Which came as some surprise,_

 _I spoke into his eyes,_

 _"I thought you died alone,_

 _A long, long time ago…"_

 _Oh no, not me,_

 _I never lost control,_

 _You're face to face_

 _With the man who sold the world_ …

"Ah, David Bowie," Harry said quietly. "Well, Midge Ure, really, doing Bowie's song. Thank Merlin that the solar recharge runic array Hermione put on this tent works."

"What is this magic?" Casca murmured, touching the device.

"Actually, that's technology. Not magic. I mean, the power that keeps it running is fed by magic, but the rest of it? Well, to be honest, I only know the basics of how a CD player work. You guys are still in the Middle Ages. Then again, what did Hermione say? That Arthur C Clarke said that any advanced enough technology is indistinguishable from magic."

"Hermione…your friend from…your world," Casca said, trying to get a handle on the moment, even as Harry twisted something on the CD player, causing the music to decrease in volume.

"Yeah. I'm hoping she's safe."

"So…those adventures you told me of…they were real? Voldemort, the Basilisk, the Dementors…they were real?"

"…Yes. I'd be hurt that you didn't believe me…but I thought you were an imaginary friend too. One I never grew out of."

"…Same here. I'm…I'm still not sure that this is some dream, some delusion that's come about after I hit my head. I fell off that horse pretty hard, thanks to that bastard," Casca glared down at the swordsman. "What does Griffith want with him anyway? Does he want him to join us?"

"Hey, you know Griffith better than I do, Cas," Harry said with a shrug. His features softened, and he gave Casca a tired smile, a weary smile. "Meeting you for the first time, I mean in person, is the best thing to happen to me in a very long time. I at least have a friendly face, and not just memories." He chuckled a fatigued chuckle of relief. He then threw his arms around her and laughed as he embraced her, a cracked braying sound, but laughter all the same.

Had it been anyone else, she would have shoved them off. Indeed, she froze briefly. But she relaxed, as she realised he wanted nothing more than a hug. She placed his arms around his body. And she couldn't help a smile creeping onto her own lips. "It's good to finally meet you, Harry," she said. And it was good to finally meet him. To have some affirmation that he wasn't an overactive figment of her imagination. To feel his presence, to experience his scent…that made him real…

* * *

Griffith smiled rather wistfully as he peered at the strange tent the wizard had set up. While he had a rather strange and exclusive definition of friendship, it did not mean he didn't value Casca. She had been one of his first recruits into what became the Band of the Hawk after all, and her loyalty, skills and determination were valuable assets. But…he also wished she would smile more, that she would have more moments of happiness like this. He knew she wanted to be with him in some manner, but alas, his ambitions precluded that, and she knew that.

She had spoken to him of Harry Potter, the imaginary friend who was also a wizard, going on fanciful adventures. And now, said wizard was here. Griffith saw that as providence, whether shaped by the hand of a deity, or else by happenstance. Even if the wizard did not fight for the Band of the Hawk (Griffith knew that, as powerful as a wizard would be, using his powers in battle would attract unwanted attention from the Holy See and their Holy Iron Chain Knights), he could give Casca happiness that Griffith could never truly give her, regardless of whether it was merely as a close friend, or even as a lover.

Still, there was that interesting swordsman. The one who fought Bazuso the Grey Knight. True, he was reckless, but there was something about that that Griffith admired. He saw potential in the muscled warrior, potential that would be wasted outside the Band of the Hawk.

Yes…kismet brought them together, he was sure of it. He gently clasped the Crimson Behelit around his neck. Yes, he was sure of it…

 **CHAPTER 2 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **So, Harry and Casca have had a little talk, and Griffith has been doing some contemplating of his own. The lyrics come from** ** _The Man Who Sold the World_** **by David Bowie, and I don't own that, obviously. I prefer the Midge Ure version, though, and it shows.**

 **Now, a few points I'd like to discuss. Firstly, Harry and Casca's relationship. At the moment, they're friends, and frankly, they're still coming to terms with the fact that their respective friend is real. No actual romance will be taking place just yet, and considering that they do have some conflicting natures, it will take some time. Harry prefers not to kill except in egregious circumstances, whereas Casca, being a mercenary, kills for a living. Casca also has a stronger temper than Harry. Finally, Harry comes from a modern society, while Casca comes from a medieval society where she's had to struggle a lot more to get to where she is now.**

 **Writing from Griffith's POV was interesting. I wanted to think about what he thinks of Casca. Now, his little speech about what he considers friendship is actually somewhat callous, and it shows him to lack empathy somewhat, as do some of his actions. But I also decided, he actually does care about his comrades in the Band of the Hawk, at least to some degree, not just putting on a façade. I said he** ** _lacks_** **empathy, not that he has none whatsoever. I think he does lead on Casca somewhat, but I think he and Casca have an understanding that he cannot love her, even if he wanted to, because of his ambitions. It's his obsession with Guts, and his refusal to accept Guts' desire to move on that leads, like a growing avalanche, to what happens during the Eclipse. So while he does have, IMO, sociopathic tendencies in some regards, he's not at all evil, especially not by the standards of a medieval fantasy world. At least at this point in the story. If Casca's happy with Harry, then Griffith is glad for her.**

 **No numbered annotations this time.**


	5. Chapter 3: Guts

**CHAPTER 3:**

 **GUTS**

He wasn't expecting to wake up. In fact, the nightmares he had of his childhood, especially that night Gambino sold his…. _services_ to Donovan, to him, made it seem like he was in Hell, tormented by spectres of the past. So when he woke up to find himself in a tent, with a pair of people watching him, he wasn't sure what to expect. Especially with the weird stuff around.

He remembered that woman, the dark-skinned fighter who, he had to admit, was fairly good, though he didn't like the contemptuous look she was giving him. Oh, right, he'd probably killed some of her buddies. But the young man next to her, wearing glasses, emerald eyes peering at him warily, he'd only seen him briefly, from a distance, doing something to yank the woman out of reach. Like he was a wizard or something.

"…Are you going to cause problems?" the young man asked.

"…No," Guts said. He was disarmed for now. Better not to do anything until the time was right.

"…So…my name is Harry, this is Casca, and no, you're not in the afterlife. Believe me, I know what that looks like. It's basically an empty train station," the young man said.

On Guts' look, the woman, Casca presumably, sighed. "He's like that."

"So, what's your name?" Harry asked.

"…Guts. What am I doing here?"

"Well, Griffith roped me in to basically be the medic. You should be thankful I got to you before there was too much blood loss."

Guts felt at his chest, where Griffith had impaled him with his sabre. Nothing, not even a scar. "…Impossible," he murmured, getting to his feet. "How did…?"

And then, suddenly, Casca went up to him and punched him, hard, in the gut. "You bastard. _That_ was for my men. Griffith should have left you for the crows to eat." And as he staggered, she punched him again. "And _that_ was for my horse."

"…Cas, it was that idiot Corkus' idea, wasn't it?" Harry said, looking at the dark-skinned warrior. "Haven't you already punched him?"

Casca merely shot him a glare. "Come on," she said. "I've had enough…"

* * *

Harry grimaced as he heard Guts snarling after them as they left the tent, hoping the swordsman wouldn't do anything to it. "Look, I know you're angry with him, and for good reason. If he killed friends or comrades of mine, a punch to the gut's the least of his worries. But could you wait until, I dunno, you got him into sparring or something, make it look like an accident?"

"Because if it weren't for you, he would have killed me and my friends," Casca said. "And I'd rather not hit an unconscious man. Well, unless it was needed for battle."

"Ouch. I guess he should be grateful that you didn't get him in the nuts."

Casca scoffed quietly. "I pulled my punch anyway. If I wanted to, I could have broken his ribs. I just want him to know that he'd better take me seriously in combat. I still don't know why Griffith wanted us to look after him."

"Speak of the devil," Harry muttered, noticing Griffith approaching Guts, and getting the burly mercenary to follow him. Griffith had given Guts back his sword, and the burly swordsman was apparently going to hear Griffith out.

As they passed by, Harry looked at Casca, who, after the pair moved off, followed them. Harry followed her in turn. "You don't need to follow me," Casca said.

"I'm curious too," Harry said. "And I've got some experience in sneaking around and listening in on things I shouldn't."

She shot him a look, before finally nodding. "Right. Stick close, then."

* * *

They found themselves hiding near a tree on the slopes of a hill where Griffith and Guts had stopped. They could hear Guts' low rasp of a voice saying, "…Missed my heart deliberately. Why?"

"Because I want you, Guts."

Harry heard Casca's breath hitch. Guts, however, retorted, "You have a thing for men?"

Griffith merely chuckled, before saying, "Actually, I saw your battle with Bazuso. A most spectacular battle, but a close one, given what happened with the axe. Had it not been damaged by your earlier parry, it would have carved the top of your head off, helmet or not, and Bazuso would have made your skull a rather macabre drinking cup as a trophy. You fight recklessly, dangerously, to push yourself to your limits, and beyond them. You seek meaning to your existence through exposing yourself to peril and surviving in spite of it. At least that's the impression I got." He turned to Guts with a smile. "And that's why I like you. That is why, Guts, I would like you to join the Band of the Hawk."

"And what if I refuse?" Guts asked.

"Would you refuse?" Griffith asked in his turn.

"Damn right, I do!" Guts said, getting up in Griffith's face. "I dunno where you get off on thinking you know me, that we're friends after you put a hole in my chest!" With that, he drew his sword and aimed it at Griffith's face. "We don't settle this with pretty words, but with swords. If I win, I'll put a hole in _your_ chest."

"And if I win?" Griffith asked, calm despite the sword aimed at him, now at his chest.

"We're mercenaries. We get paid in cash, grass, or ass(1). You can have me as your soldier or fucktoy, I don't care which," Guts said with a sardonic smirk.

"Hmm, as you wish," Griffith said, drawing his sabre. That was enough for Casca to break from hiding, Harry following her. As he saluted Guts with his sabre, Griffith added, "I do admit that I enjoy settling arguments with force of arms as much as words."

"Griffith!" Casca yelled.

"Casca, stay back," Griffith said, shooting the dark-skinned girl a look. "The same goes for you, Harry. And Guts…just a fair warning…I always get what I want."

"That attitude of yours makes me wanna puke!" Guts roared, before attacking.

At first glance, the two seemed mismatched, the slender form of Griffith and his sabre, and Guts' burly frame and his two-handed sword, the match drawing attention from the other Hawks. But Griffith expertly parried each blow, redirecting it. He then managed to catch Guts in the side of the head with the pommel of his sabre, before slashing open a wound on Guts' thigh. Guts soon retaliated, digging his sword into the ground, flinging soil and dirt into Griffith's face. Guts' overhead swing was dodged by Griffith leaping into the air, only to land gracefully on the blade itself, carefully balanced to avoid cutting his feet, before pressing the tip of his sabre to Guts' face.

"I love your pragmatism, Guts," Griffith said serenely. "But I'm weighing down your sword. Would you like to give up? Or perhaps postpone this little match? I don't bite."

"Well, I DO!" Guts snarled. Then, he lunged out, biting Griffith's sword, causing the surprised commander to overbalance as he tried to yank it away. Soon, the two were brawling on the ground like schoolboys in the playground, Griffith coming off the worst of them.

As they approached, and Griffith spat out some blood, Guts sneered, "How does your own blood taste? I'm sure it's the first time someone pummelled your pretty little face in. Your men are going to watch you go down!" With that, he lunged, only for Griffith to dodge, grab him in a hold, and bear him to the ground.

"You did well," Griffith said as his underlings gathered. "But you have a choice now. You can either yield with grace, or enjoy the dubious pleasures of a dislocated shoulder. What will it be?"

"…Fuck…off…" Guts ground out, only for his face to freeze as a crack echoed across the battlefield.

As Griffith got to his feet, and his followers cheered, Guts clutched at his shoulder, and got to his knees, only for Griffith to come forward, and place his hands on either side of Guts' face. A strange look came over Guts' mien, not belligerent, almost awed.

"Now you belong to me," Griffith said softly.

"Creepy, much?" Harry snarked, only to notice Casca walking away. He followed, and asked, "What's the matter?"

"…He never said that to anyone before," Casca said quietly. "Not once."

"…Casca…what he said was creepy as hell," Harry retorted. As she shot him a glare, he held up his hands. "Look…I don't know Griffith as well as you do, but…do you really want him to say something like that to you? That you belong to him?"

Her glare intensified briefly, before she subsided. "…You're right. You don't know Griffith as well as I do. And you only know of our life through me. What does Griffith see in Guts that he doesn't see in me, in any one of us?"

"…I can't answer that, Casca. I just think…it's like he enslaved Guts in a really weird way. Like he does want Guts to be his lover. I mean, I'm probably wrong, but still…" Harry shook his head. "I'm not helping, am I?"

"No. No, you're not," Casca said, before she sighed quietly. "…I know what you mean, but Griffith's not like that. Although…I wonder, did I know him as well as I thought I did?"

* * *

Harry and Casca parted after that point, Harry realising that his snark at Griffith's expense hadn't gone down well. Then again, he didn't quite understand why she was so aggravated, though he didn't know much about Griffith and the Band of the Hawk. He'd put his foot in it out of ignorance, though he was at least aware of his own ignorance.

He'd just gone back into his tent, and was currently reading, when a voice said, "Hello? Is there…huh. Okay, wasn't expecting this."

Harry glanced at the entrance to find a blonde-haired handsome young man, his hair tied back in a ponytail. Judeau, he remembered, from Casca's introductions of the others. A former circus performer who was good with knives. "Judeau, right?"

"Yes, that's me. Some fight, huh?"

Harry shrugged. "Some fight. Pretty weird, though. Has Griffith done anything like that before?"

"Not quite. I mean, he's defeated people who later join the Hawks, but…Guts was different. But he's not what I want to talk about. How do you know Casca?"

Ah, there it was. Harry looked at Judeau, before shaking his head. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me. I've seen some pretty unbelievable things. Why, I once met an Elf." Judeau grimaced. "Highly overrated. The one I met was an irritating little bugger. And I saw you use magic to save her, albeit from afar. Not to mention saving those men. Not to mention, well, this." He indicated the inside of the tent.

"…I'm a wizard, yeah. I also come from another world. Casca and I were each other's imaginary friends, and I don't have any idea as to why and how. All I know is, I ended up wandering Midland some weeks back after some bad shit happened."

Judeau blinked. "…And that is the short version?"

"The really short version," Harry said. "Not that I expect you to believe me, but…"

"Well…to be honest, no," Judeau said. Not angrily or belligerently. Indeed, he was being friendly, thoughtful. "But…she knows you. She never lets anyone call her anything other than Casca, or maybe 'Big Sis'. I see the way she acts around you, like she actually knows you. So while your story itself is unbelievable, the fact that you somehow know each other is believable. So, let me give you some advice. Casca is treasured here. She is one of our strongest fighters, and second only to Griffith as a commander. She had to fight every inch of the way there because she's a woman. So don't hurt her." Judeau's jovial air hardened somewhat, as he shot a look at Harry. "I want to think of you as a friend, not just to Casca, but to all of us. Don't prove us wrong."

"I wouldn't do such a thing."

"…No, not intentionally. But be careful about what you say about Griffith. Casca adores him. As do we all. Keep that in mind should you decide to stay with us. It's just some friendly advice."

Harry could tell that Judeau meant it, and stifled an urge to retort. "I'll keep that in mind. But if you guys betray me to the Holy See…"

Judeau held up his hands in a placating manner. "Yes, I get the picture. And frankly, none of us really have much love for them. Preaching and going around burning heretics, but few of the higher-ups do anything for the common folk. Many of the priests are fine, but…well, while it would be unfair to generalise, scum does have a tendency to rise to the top in some places. In any case, I think that, as long as you're not selling or compromising your soul, I'm fine with magic, and frankly, so would most others here. We may not be the best of people here, but we try to be better than we were, for Griffith and for our dreams. And if Casca really is the girl of your dreams…" Judeau's smile became rather wistful and sad. "…Well, the best of luck to you. I don't know you…but Casca deserves happiness…"

* * *

Shortly afterwards, Judeau left, and Harry was reading his book once more, left alone for a little while longer. He didn't realise he had a visitor until he heard a soft, "Oh my."

Harry looked, and saw Griffith, his face still bruised and his lip split, standing, looking around in astonishment. "Don't you ever knock?" Harry asked, cursing himself for not engaging the sealing charm after Judeau came in.

"Oh, my apologies," Griffith said, before going back to the entrance, and hitting the outside with his fist, making a 'whap!' sound. "Casca, Guts and Judeau were talking about this tent, I just needed to see it for myself. Sorry about my eagerness. It is rare to see magic in this world. To be honest, aside from tales, the closest I have to magic is a talisman of mine, a Behelit. But I didn't come here to speak of that. Now that I've settled things with Guts, I wanted to ask you something."

"Whether I want to join you? We're…not going to battle?"

"No. As useful as your abilities would be, I don't know enough of your tricks. I would be able to beat you if we were restricted to swordplay, but if you used your magic, my success would be less certain, I think. And to overtly use magic in battle would draw down attention from unwanted corners. However, not everyone in the Band of the Hawk are soldiers. We're always in need of skilled healers, but we rely on the experience of soldiers whose idea of medicine is…somewhat rough."

"I wasn't trained as a healer. Hell, I don't know much about medicine."

"And yet, you saved the life of two of my men, one of whom would have doubtless died had it not been for your intervention, and the other was in danger of dying." Griffith touched the CD player gingerly. "And if what Casca told me is true, from what you tried to say about your world, it has many marvels and horrors, created not through magic, but by thinkers and builders. Perhaps you know things, even little things, about medicine that we do not."

"What, like bacteria and viruses?"

"…Sure, let's go with that," Griffith said. "I won't stop you from leaving…but Casca was happy to see you. To know that you are real. If you know anything about her life, especially before she joined me, you will know that she has had precious little to be truly happy about. To tell the truth, you owe me nothing. Rather, the reverse is true. But I value the lives of those who fight under me, and if there is someone who can help them stay alive…"

Harry met the azure gaze of the young leader of the Hawks evenly. He had the feeling that he was being played, somehow. That Griffith's words were part of a trap to get him into the Band of the Hawk.

…But while he wasn't happy about joining a group of mercenaries, soldiers who fought for coin rather than allegiance, they, with the exception of Corkus and his buddies, didn't seem to be a bad lot so far. There was a sense of camaraderie, of friendship, that was there when he was being shown around by Casca earlier, shortly before he erected his own tent.

And to tell the truth, what could he do other than go with the Hawks? During the weeks he spent in Midland, he'd just been wandering aimlessly. Here, he had a purpose, he could do something, even if it was healing soldiers. Then again, for now, he was sick and tired of fighting battles, only to be turned upon.

As if sensing his turmoil, Griffith asked, "Harry Potter…do you have a dream? One that you would fight for?"

"…I did once. Not anymore."

"Then I hope you find a new one," Griffith said. "I have a dream myself." He turned towards the entrance to the tent. "Help me with my dream, and perhaps you can discover what your new dream is." With that, he left the tent, and Harry, to his thoughts…

 **CHAPTER 3 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Well, that just happened.**

 **Now, Harry putting his foot in his mouth where Griffith was concerned in front of Casca was meant to show that, even though they've been friends for some time, it doesn't necessarily mean they know everything about each other. We're not having them like each other unconditionally, soul bond or not. Also, keep in mind that Harry's values are different to those of Casca, Guts, and Griffith's. He's lived in a modern society, not a medieval one. Even Magical Britain makes Midland look progressive by comparison.**

 **Judeau was coming in because he's concerned about Casca, and is worried that Harry may be a threat to Judeau's own feelings for Casca. Judeau's too nice of a guy to be jealous, at least in a malignant way, considering how he handles Guts' relationship with Casca in canon. But by the same token, he does feel a little protective. As for Griffith, while he wants Harry's power in his army, he's also enough of a pragmatist to realise the potential applications, and he can also tell that Harry is weary of war, hence offering for him to become a healer. Griffith is being a bit manipulative here, true, bringing up Casca's relationship with Harry and her happiness, along with bringing up the men Harry saved. Plus, if Harry really wanted to leave, Griffith wouldn't actually stop him: he doesn't know Harry's full arsenal of spells, and frankly, at this point, Harry would beat Griffith most of the time if he was able to use his magic.**

 **Review-answering time!** **tamagat** **: He uses silent casting when necessary, but at times, he just shouts out under stress.**

 **Guest** **: Yeah, you have a point, but Casca has a little less self-control, especially where Guts is concerned. Plus, there was the whole Adon fiasco. I'd never thought of Griffith like that, though. It's rather intriguing. Scary thought: putting** ** _Worm_** **-verse powers into the world of** ** _Berserk_** **…**

 **1\. This line, along with the 'bite' lines during the duel, come from hbi2k's Abridged Series, specifically his Abridgement of the first Golden Age movie. The 'cash, grass or ass' lines are my personal favourites in that episode.**


	6. Chapter 4: Uncertainty

**CHAPTER 4:**

 **UNCERTAINTY**

If there was a man whom Harry was sure he'd never like, it'd be Corkus. A former bandit, Corkus reminded him of the more unpleasant qualities of Snape and Draco combined. He had the sneering and bad attitude of the former, and the boastful qualities and undue pride of the latter. Plus, his face reminded him of Snape's a little, the lank hair, the nose, the unpleasant features…

"Hey, why are you drinkin' water? That stuff's bad for you!"

Of course, he also had Malfoy's habit of shooting off his mouth whenever he felt like it. Harry snarked, "If you boil clear water, you don't get disease. Drink too much beer or wine, though, and your liver goes bye-bye, along with your brain cells."

"…The fuck you talkin' about, you quack?"

"He said drinking too much rots your brain," the massive form of Pippin rumbled. From Harry's short acquaintance with the man, Harry knew he was a gentle giant.

"And he's got a point," Casca said as she sat down at the campfire, not next to Harry, but not far from him, either. "How many of your ideas did you have when you were plastered, Corkus?"

"That's because wine is the ambrosia to my muse!" Corkus retorted. "Anyway, why are we bringin' these two newcomers on board?" He indicated Harry. "I mean, this guy is a wizard, right? I saw what he did, and if word gets out to those wankers in the Holy Iron Chain Knights, we'll be wiped out quicker than you can say 'a wizard did it'! And then there's Guts." Corkus jabbed a finger at Harry. "Now you, I don't mind that much. You're too soft-lookin', you're way too familiar with Casca, and I don't like that look you're givin' me. But you saved those guys and Casca, so I'll give you that. But that Guts guy? Meatheads who can swing a sword can be found anywhere. What makes him so special?"

"…It was something Griffith saw in him," Casca said softly.

Corkus scoffed. "And of course you'd follow Griffith's lead." He then recoiled as Casca glared at him, before saying, "If Griffith told you to kill this wizard…would you do it?"

The unexpected question shocked Casca. "What kind of question is that, Corkus?!"

"The kind I want answered," Corkus retorted, before Casca dashed the contents of her mug into his face, and stormed off. After wiping off his face, Corkus then glanced at Harry, and said, "A bit of advice, wizard. Don't get too attached to Casca. Between you and Griffith…she'd choose Griffith _every time_."

Harry glared, before waving a hand, transforming Corkus' clothes into a frilly pink dress. "A bit of advice, Corkus. Annoying a wizard is a _bad idea_." Standing, he nodded to Pippin and Judeau, who were staring at Corkus (who was yet to realise what had happened), before leaving, the sudden screaming of Corkus in horror and the uproarious laughter of the others following him.

Still, Corkus' words did strike a chord with Harry. As much as he had known Casca for much of his life and hers, he was still an interloper here, and Casca knew Griffith better than she knew Harry. To her, he was her imaginary friend, a source of comfort, but not real, just as she was to him. But they had only appeared to each other intermittently in their dreams, when they were at their lowest ebb.

He remembered once bringing up Casca with Dumbledore, during the debacle that was his fourth year, while discussing odd dreams, mostly those of Voldemort. At first, he had dismissed Casca as an imaginary friend, but not long afterwards, Harry saw that Dumbledore was weeping softly. Had Dumbledore known Casca was real? So why was he crying? Was it because Harry was doomed to die without ever meeting Casca, if it weren't for that convoluted plan? Or was it because he knew Casca was from another world somehow, and believed that Harry would never be united with her?

Harry had mixed feelings about Dumbledore, to say the least. Part of him would never forgive the manipulative old man for what he did to Harry's life. And yet, Harry also felt that Dumbledore regretted every step of the way, and viewed his death as atonement. Harry couldn't truly forgive him…but he could not forget the kindnesses the old man had given him, and tried to.

Anyway, the point was…between Griffith and Harry, who would she choose, if she had to?

So wrapped up was he in his thoughts, he almost didn't notice Guts, sitting outside a tent that was presumably assigned to him. The burly swordsman was eating a meal, and didn't seem to notice as Harry sat down next to him. "…Sorry I got you into this mess," Harry said.

Guts grunted. "You were saving the woman. Griffith was probably going to arrive in time. Besides, what are you sorry for?"

"Hey, you effectively got conscripted, while Griffith gave me a choice. Don't get me wrong, you nearly killed those soldiers, not to mention Cas, but…that was Corkus' doing. Would you go out of your way to kill someone if they weren't bothering you?"

"Only if I was getting paid," Guts said. His dark eyes flickered over to Harry. "I want to be left alone."

Harry got the hint, delivered not in an angry tone, just a hard statement of fact. Griffith may have kicked Guts' arse, but you don't argue with a man who can wield a sword as large as that on general principle. He stood, and walked away.

In truth, Harry wanted to be left alone for now himself. What Corkus said shook him. And Casca's reaction was telling, as she never denied Corkus' words. She didn't answer him, merely dashing her mug into his face. And Harry felt the effects of that as acutely as if Casca had thrown the mug's contents into his own face.

Then, he heard voices ahead. The gentle tones of Griffith, and Casca's own voice. "…Do I do?" Casca asked as Harry kept behind a tent.

"Casca, when we met, you swore loyalty to me. I understand your conflict. But Corkus seems to forget that I would never ask you to do that. If I had to ensure Harry's death, then I would tell someone else to do so. Even if it meant enduring your hatred. But…it will not come to that." Griffith's voice lowered slightly. "Casca…I saw the happiness on your face. It was understated, but there. You have been travelling with such a burden, but when Harry arrived…it felt like some of it had been lightened. I value your loyalty and your skills, Casca, but I also value your happiness. If Harry does stay, even if it is only as a healer, then that will be good for you."

"…And what of Guts?" Casca asked after a pause.

"Ah, yes. Please allow me to indulge my selfishness with him, Casca. I see great potential in him. You see only the rough dross, but I see the shining form of what he may yet become. I cannot force you to like him, of course. But as long as he does his job, treat him like one of us. Besides, I am sure you'd agree with me that it's better to have him on our side than anyone else's."

"He's also a mad dog, Griffith. I heard what you said to him, that he's reckless in battle to test and surpass his own limits…and that sort of thing could get other people killed."

"We can fix that, given time. Tolerate him, for my sake, please. I daresay you got the better end of the deal with Harry." Griffith chuckled lightly.

"It's not like that!" Casca yelped.

"Not yet, I'm sure. But I'd like to be a bit older before I become an uncle." He began laughing. Casca snarled, and Harry heard her storming away. "Ahh…she's too easy to rile…" he heard Griffith muse.

Deciding he had heard enough, Harry made his way back to his tent. He hoped that Griffith was telling the truth. If Griffith did decide to have him killed, Harry intended to deal with Griffith himself, regardless of Casca's regard for the man. After entering the tent, he activated the sealing charm. Only air would go in or out.

And he lay there, in his bed, until sleep finally claimed him…

* * *

 _He saw it in his dreams. Saw it through her eyes. The day she was sold._

 _The resignation she felt when her parents agreed. The rumbling of the carriage she was in. The sallow face of the noble who had bought her, his pensive look turning into a leer. The noble lunging at her. The escape from the carriage, only for the noble to pursue. Being pinned down, her dress ripped open…_

 _And then, her salvation. A knight in shining armour. An angel of mercy sent by God_.

 ** _Griffith_**.

 _She took up the sword he hurled down, and, in desperation, impaled the noble. And then, she asked him what to do. Griffith said that it was her choice alone. But did he know even then that he had made such an impression on her, she didn't have any true choice?_

* * *

 _She saw it in her dreams. Saw it through his eyes. The night his parents died._

 _She knew by now that he had been little more than one when this happened, and yet, somehow, it was a clear memory. Maybe it was magic. Maybe it was a fluke. And yet, here she was, watching from his eyes._

 _She heard a voice yell, "It's HIM, Lily! Take Harry and RUN!" A sense of motion, and then, being laid down in a crib. Distant shouts of fury, before two words were shouted._

" **Avada Kedavra!** "

 _The red-haired woman peering down at him cried, and began murmuring words, words of reassurance, words of magic. And then, the door to the nursery was destroyed. A man with a snake-like face was demanding the woman step aside._

 ** _Voldemort_** _._

 _The woman was begging for Harry's life to be spared, until finally, the warlock tired of the argument, and shouted those two words again. A massive strobe of green light later, and the red-haired woman collapsed. She realised she had witnessed his mother dying._

 _And then, Voldemort was pointing a wand at him, sneering, before laughing. Then, another strobe of green light, and a roaring, rushing noise, like the demented howling of some massive gale_ …

* * *

Casca's eyes opened wide. A gasp escaped her lips. It took some time for her to get her bearings, something that the more militaristic part of her noted dispassionately as unacceptable. If she came under attack while asleep or needed to get into action in a hurry, then too long a delay would cost her her life. Another part of her noted less dispassionately that while she was used to nightmares, it was another thing to have someone else's. She sat up, noting that by the light outside the tent, it was shortly before dawn, a little time before her usual wakeup time. Dressing, she left the tent.

Few were up and about at this time of morning. She noted that Guts was actually practising swinging his sword not far from. She had to concede to him, he was committed if nothing else. She'd had to chase away Corkus and his men from making a second attempt on his life last night. If he could follow orders, he would be valuable, at least in terms of skill.

Still, what happened yesterday had her hackles rising, not to mention what he did when they first met. So she didn't give him much regard as she moved away. And then, she smelt it. Toasting bread. Cooking this time of morning wasn't unheard of, but it was still unusual.

She soon found the source: Harry, sitting outside of his tent, watching a squat metal box with a pair of slits in the top, slits which suddenly spat out toasted bread. He then began spreading what looked like butter and a pitch black spread over the toast. He looked up seeing her approach. "Nightmares?"

"How did you know?"

"…I saw the day Griffith saved you," Harry said quietly as he returned to spreading the butter and…whatever the black stuff was onto the toast. "You saw one of my memories, I'd bet."

"…The night your parents died. I remembered you describing how the Dementors brought those memories up, but…"

"Say no more." He proffered a slice of toast. "Want one?"

Casca took it gingerly. "And what is this stuff on it?"

"Vegemite(1). You probably wouldn't know it. Hermione got me into it. She got hooked after her parents took her to Australia for a holiday. She suggested I try it once, and, well…I packed a few jars just in case. Had to ration them, though. Not everyone likes it."

Casca decided to try it. The black spread had a strangely savoury nature, with a salty, bitter bite. She decided to eat the rest of it, not sure whether she liked it or not. "That was…interesting," she said politely.

Harry chuckled, before eating his own toast. "It's an acquired taste." His face became more pensive. "I'm sorry I saw that memory of yours."

"If you had no control over it, that's fine. Anyway, I had already told you about that day."

"Yeah, I know. I've had a lot of things happen to me, but…I didn't go through what you did. You got stronger because Griffith gave you the choice." He looked her in the eyes. "Casca…aside from what Corkus did the other day…are they good men? I know you're mercenaries, you don't really have a cause, well, a country to fight for…but are they good men?"

Casca tamped down her annoyance at the question. Harry was asking her. Because he was undecided about the Hawks being the place he wanted to be. So she nodded.

It wasn't really a lie, most of the Band of the Hawk were good men. And despite her annoyance yesterday, and her inner conflict the night before, she didn't want Harry to leave. The way he treated her was…well, interesting. He clearly viewed her as an attractive woman, and he was rather familiar with her, but he also didn't care that she was a warrior. More than a few opponents jeered at her for being a woman, even some of her comrades in the Band of the Hawk, and she knew, in times to come, there'd be even more…

* * *

Elsewhere, Adon Coborlwitz sneezed twice, and scowled. Who was talking smack about him behind his back?

* * *

But Harry didn't think she shouldn't be a warrior because she was a woman. To him, the issue was with her morality than her profession, whether she targeted innocents or not. To him, a warrior woman, if not actually normal, was still acceptable to him. Hell, he even _admired_ her. That's what he told her in their meetings in dreams. And while many in the Band of the Hawk admired her (Judeau, for one, and Rickert, with the guileless nature of a child, for another), there was still an undercurrent of bemusement, that as the sole female fighter here, she was a novelty, no, something that stuck out like a wart. Harry, on the other hand, seemed to wonder why there weren't more like her in the Hawk.

And then he said the words that told her that, even if all would not be right with the world, then she would at least have some happiness in times to come.

"Then I'll join the Band of the Hawk…"

 **CHAPTER 4 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Oh dear, have Harry and Casca's friendship nearly stopped before it started? Fuck Corkus. Seriously, what is he actually good for, other than being a dick?**

 **Anyway, I hope I got the various characters down. I get the impression that, at times, Griffith is a troll. Hence his remark about being an uncle.**

 **Review-answering time!** **Guest** **: Exactly.**

 **Zane Tribal Tyne Alexandros** **: It's a fair point, but Griffith did have a choice, even when he was being influenced by Ubik.**

 **TITAN URANUS** **: I'll admit, I probably stick to the plot rails more than you'd like (including Casca being raped by Griffith), but the soul bond was actually put into place specifically so that Casca could retreat** ** _through it_** **(rather than retreating inwardly) during her rape (everything else was a bonus). Keep in mind that my version of post-Eclipse Casca still isn't wholly sane, given what she's gone through. She's still deeply and badly affected. But because when Griffith did the deed, the lights were on but nobody was home, Casca is still relatively sane, or at least functional. She keeps herself sane by getting stronger. She wants to be strong enough so that, when she meets Griffith again, she can put an end to him. In a way, that's not unlike what Guts does, but Casca does it her own way.**

 **So while many events go the same way (the Band of the Hawk is still decimated, and Griffith still becomes Femto), other elements are changed in important ways. Casca remains functional, the post-Eclipse Guts (ironically) is a little more moral (he and Harry and Casca are still in contact via linked diaries), and Charlotte is, at the moment, with Godo and Rickert. Also, I have plans for Farnese to have a wakeup call earlier than in canon, or at least have doubts about her mission. If you don't like what I'm doing, then you don't have to continue reading it.**

 **1\. I've shown the fact that I'm an Aussie here. I'm fond of Vegemite on toast.**


	7. Chapter 5: The Behelit

**CHAPTER 5:**

 **THE BEHELIT**

 _A few days later_ …

As Harry finished healing the various wounded, he found himself grimacing. He'd just seen the first of what would doubtless be many battles to come, albeit from afar, watching Casca ride off with Griffith and the others to launch an attack on the enemy. Griffith was currently working for the petty local lord who needed help repelling some invaders. Apparently Guts had managed to lead off the pursuers very well, being a rearguard. Griffith, oddly enough, had entrusted such a vital task to Guts.

He wandered back towards the main group, watching as Pippin dragged a recalcitrant Guts down to the party, where he was being declared a hero for his actions. Harry smiled a little when he saw Guts' reaction. Guts really had no thought of himself as a hero. In fact, he looked like he wanted to do nothing more than to sit by himself and brood with his sword in his hand, which was what he was doing earlier.

He spotted Casca standing on the rampart overlooking the castle square where they were celebrating, looking down at the celebrations, but looking about as inclined to take part in it as Guts did. Or indeed, Harry did. Griffith was amongst the men, but Casca…

Harry walked around to the stairs, and walked up to the ramparts where Casca was standing. "Penny for your thoughts?" Harry asked.

"…That wasn't a test," Casca said quietly. "Griffith trusted him to do his job perfectly. And…Griffith went back for him. He's never done that."

"Wow. He trusted him that instantly?" Harry asked. "And as for going back for him…has Griffith helped you people before?"

"Not like that," Casca said.

"Well, I'll give Guts one thing. He doesn't really enjoy being hailed as a hero," Harry said. "Look at him. He reminds me of how I felt when I learned that I was the Boy Who Lived. He doesn't know what to feel. He's not used to being praised. I don't think he ever will, either."

"He'd better not," Casca said. "Those who get too big-headed won't last long. Though he did well, I'll give him that. He helped Rickert."

Harry nodded. He felt ill at ease around what were effectively child soldiers, but many in the Band of the Hawk were in their teens. Rickert was easily the youngest of their number, but he seemed happy amongst them. Then again, Harry had the impression that Dumbledore may have been, consciously or not, shaping him into a child soldier. He belonged here more than he cared to admit.

"Not going down to celebrate?" Harry asked.

"Not now. I don't mind doing so sometimes…but I don't feel like drinking and carousing. Besides, someone has to keep a clear head."

"Designated driver?" Harry asked, only to wave off her confused look. "Never mind. I don't drink much myself. I heard that explosion…well, I felt it from here."

"Well, setting fire to the enemy arsenal is one of Griffith's favourite tactics. I'm used to the explosions. And cannon fire. You have to be, on the battlefield."

"Hey, I had experienced that. You try dodging Blasting Hexes all the time in battle." He chuckled mirthlessly as he looked down at the gathered mercenaries below, sitting down on the edge of the rampart, Casca joining him. "Look at them, though. They've probably got more battle experience than I have, Cas."

"Be grateful. Anyone who thinks battle is glorious is an idiot. Victory, maybe, but battle itself? It's just violent and bloody."

"…Is that why you don't like Guts?"

Casca looked at him, before shaking her head. "Not quite. It's a reason, one of many. But it's mostly about why Griffith chose him. Actually forced him into the Band of the Hawk. He favours Guts, and I can't understand why."

Harry nodded, before he turned to Casca. "You've gotta admit, watching him flail around while Pippin carried him over his shoulder was funny."

The dark-skinned girl snorted, before her face turned solemn. "Actually…I think there might have been something more to that, now that you mention it. He was actually attacking Pippin, and I don't think he'd do that if he just wanted to get away from the party…"

* * *

The next morning, Harry was approached by Casca. "Hey. Griffith said that he wants to see you once he's done with Guts."

"Oh? Any reason why?"

"I don't know," Casca said with a shrug. "Maybe he wants to pal around with the new recruits."

Harry gave a shrug of his own, before heading off to where Casca indicated. He all but bumped into Guts, who was walking out, looking dripping wet, though oddly at ease. Harry hadn't quite gotten used to the burly swordsman, though he got along with Guts better than Casca did. As long as the man wasn't trying to kill Casca, or be a real piece of work, Harry could cope. "Huh. It's you," Guts said. "She's not with you, is she?"

"Not at the moment. What did Griffith want to talk to me about?"

"Hell if I know. He roped me into a water fight," Guts said, though the faint smile twitching at his lips told Harry that he had enjoyed it somewhat. Then, after a moment, he yelled behind him, "Oi, Griffith! Harry's coming through! Get some bloody pants on, for God's sake!" Then, to Harry, he said, "Oh, and a little bit of advice. If he asks you if you want to see his Behelit, that charm thing he's wearing around his neck, just say no. That thing's creepy as fuck. See ya."

Harry walked on through, to find Griffith fixing up some pants he had clearly just pulled on, near a well he had apparently been showering from. His slender, pale form was a thing of beauty, and Harry knew that he'd be turning heads with the ladies, and a few men. Griffith turned to look at Harry, and smiled. "Good morning. I noticed you didn't partake of the festivities."

"I'm not the partying type. Not anymore."

"Neither was Guts, but my men brought him in. I think he got used to it once the initial shock was over. Pippin's a bit sore, but that's it."

Harry noticed the trinket Guts had mentioned, the so-called Behelit. A crimson egg-shaped bauble, with oddly-placed facial features: a pair of closed eyes, a nose, lips, all jumbled apparently randomly on the bauble. Griffith noticed his scrutiny, and said, "Oh, you're interested in it?"

"Not really. I think it's a rather tacky piece of jewellery."

Griffith, far from offended, actually laughed. "Yes, it probably seems that way. Truth be told, I've had it since I was a boy. It has sentimental value. A fortuneteller gave it to me. It's called the Crimson Behelit, or the Egg of the King. Supposedly, in exchange for your flesh and blood, it will grant you the ability to become a king."

Harry peered at it, only for one of the eyelids to open, a blue eye peering back at him. "Fuck! That thing's looking at me!" he yelped recoiling.

"Hmm?" Griffith looked at it. "Guts got startled too. Creepy, isn't it?" He held it up with a childish grin.

"I'd chuck it away. Take it from me, something like that can't be good," Harry said, scowling. "I've dealt with more than my fair share of dark objects. Anyway, what did you want me here for?"

"Just to talk. While you weren't on the front lines, last night was the first battle with the Hawks that you were involved in. It hasn't been long since you joined us. I already find your candour refreshing. Both you and Guts aren't afraid to speak your minds, whereas most of my men, well, they don't try to do so, especially when Casca is around. In any case, you are a wizard from another world. I'm sure there are many interesting things you could speak of."

"And you accept that fact so readily?"

"I saw inside your tent, and what little Casca spoke of your tales intrigued me. Well…let's start with something. Do you know of any diseases in the past of your world that are easily cured?"

Harry frowned. "Well…there's scurvy. That's a Vitamin C deficiency, and easily curable with fresh fruit."

"Hmm. I keep a decent supply anyway when I can. And Corkus mentioned you boil water to prevent disease."

"It kills the germs, the bacteria. I think strong alcohol kills them too. If you've got anything that's strong enough proof, that could be used in a pinch. Healing spells sterilise wounds, but if I can't do anything…" Harry shook his head. "Hermione would have known more. I mean, does this world have much in the way of science?"

"Probably not in the way your world does. And I'd like you to learn how to fight, even without your magic. While you should use it if the choice is between survival and death, it's best to have a variety of fighting skills. There're a few people who can use a staff here. Perhaps you can learn to use a spear as well. Perhaps one day, you can fight alongside us on the front lines."

"I'll think about it. By the way, you do know Cas has issues with you conscripting Guts?"

"Of course. We've had a few… _lively_ discussions." Griffith smiled at Harry. "In truth, I envy you both. You two seem to have a level of understanding I don't think even I could match, and I have known her for years."

"You were her knight in shining armour," Harry said.

"True. But she had a choice to join me. I gave her one. Though you are probably right. In doing what I did, I gave her no choice at all, at least in her own mind. Harry…Casca is one of my best soldiers. Indeed, she is effectively my second in command. Do not become a weakness for her. Instead, become her strength. Become her shield."

"You didn't need to ask."

"No, I didn't, did I?" Griffith asked rhetorically.

* * *

 _He failed being her shield when she needed him most, he thought, as she and Casca sparred in front of the Spirit Tree, Schierke and Ivalera watching on. Ironically, it was Griffith, the man who had exhorted him to become her shield, who had harmed her. Raping her, corrupting the child they had only just conceived._

 _Harry blamed himself, and he knew Casca and Guts blamed themselves. If they had known what the Crimson Behelit, combined with Griffith's ambitions, would unleash, they would have thrown that ugly little bauble into the nearest latrine. Even given what he had learned from Flora, how Behelits, like the One Ring, almost always seemed to find their way back to the person who was destined to use it, he would have tried to find a way to get rid of it._

 _And killed Griffith? It was too easy to say that. Ambitious though he was, and as much as he didn't consider the Band of the Hawk his friends, he still_ _ **valued**_ _them. Griffith, before everything went sour, he had been a good man. True, he had a strong ruthless streak, one that had led him to ordering Harry to kill Earl Julius. Harry had mostly agreed because Julius was a dick. Seeing him abusing his son in the name of training only solidified Harry's resolve._

 _Speaking of training…_

 _Casca knocked him to the ground, and placed her sword at his throat. She didn't even have to tell him to yield. Once she knew he had conceded defeat, she held out a hand to help him up. In pure physical combat, she definitely had him beaten. Of course, magical combat was another matter, but even then, she was improving against him._

 _The time they had spent here was gradually healing her, too. Healing them both, but given what Casca personally experienced during the Eclipse, she needed it more than he did. True, they were here to learn more about magic, about the Behelits and the Godhand, but they were also here to heal._

 _Guts didn't want that. He chafed at convalescence. He healed by inflicting his suffering on others, namely the Apostles and the humans who followed them. But Guts also trusted Harry and Casca to get stronger, strong enough to eventually take on the Godhand, to take on Femto. And in return, they kept in contact with him. Guts had an inner darkness like Griffith did, one he struggled with all the time. Harry and Casca were the only people keeping Guts away from the edge._

 _When Harry first came to this world, he was sick and tired of being a hero. He'd been there, done that, and got shat upon by the people he saved. Griffith gave him purpose again, as did Casca. In fact, they gave him a place to belong, even if he had had enough of fighting. He just wanted to help people, and Griffith gave him that opportunity._

 _Griffith had told him that Harry could one day discover his new dream. In truth, in the end, all he had come to was a nightmare. A nightmare Griffith led them into._

 _Harry did have a dream now, though. Maybe it would never be fulfilled, because what he opposed was too damned powerful. It was a dream he shared with Casca. One day, they would settle down, and have a good life. They would try to have a happy life._

 _But first, they needed to do something impossible, reckless, and suicidal._

 _They needed to bring down the Godhand_.

* * *

 _It was that night that Casca made the first steps to intimacy once more. As they prepared to sleep in their separate beds, Casca said, "Harry…I want you with me tonight. Just…holding me. I just need to get used to it again."_

 _"…Are you sure, Cas?"_

 _"Of course I'm not sure! But…this distance between us…it's hurting us. And I know you're not_ _ **him**_. Please."

 _So he did so, gently sliding into bed behind her, the two damaged souls spooning. After a moment, he said, softly, "Your hair's grown out." And indeed, it had. Admittedly, cutting it while on the run was hard to do, but they found time to cut it short. But now they were at the Spirit Tree, she didn't do so, and hadn't asked Harry to. He was surprised it took him this long to notice, consciously._

 _"…I very nearly cut it a few weeks back, but Schierke said I looked good with longer hair."_

 _"You do. You looked good with your hair short, and you look good with your hair like this, Cas."_

 _Harry couldn't see her face from where he was, but he knew she was smiling. Eventually, they fell asleep. This night, at least, they didn't need Dreamless Sleep to chase off the nightmares. It was a single step, but a big one_ …

 **CHAPTER 5 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **So, Harry's learned about the Behelit, and is beginning to fit into the Band of the Hawk. After another full chapter flashforward, it's time for the timeskip…**

 **Review-answering time!** **Guest** **: Harry never learned to make Vegemite because, well, he was intending to only hide out overseas until he could get settled. Now that he's stranded in another world…well, he's not sure how to make it.**

 **No numbered annotations this time.**


	8. Interlude: Astral Forms, Armour, and

**INTERLUDE:**

 **ASTRAL FORMS, ARMOUR, AND PATRONUS**

Casca grimaced as she sketched the Godhand from memory. It was part of the healing process, in a way, a form of catharsis, as well as a practise of her sketching skills, skills she had never really developed in the Band of the Hawk, unless she was showing Griffith what someone looked like, or the defences of a castle. Judeau was the better sketcher of the Hawks.

She grimaced at the memory of what had happened to the former circus performer. He had fought on to the bitter end, trying to save her. Many of the men had panicked within that hellish demesne, including Corkus, but Pippin and Judeau…they went down fighting. She hoped beyond hope that they had made those Apostles feel it.

After a moment, she glanced at Flora, Harry and Schierke, the three of them prone, eyes closed. The two witches were teaching Harry how to use his astral body, a kind of spiritual form. Useful for recon, she supposed. Casca could potentially learn that. She was surprised that she would be capable of learning magic, but in this world (though not on Harry's), anyone could learn magic, as long as they had enough belief, as well as awareness of the different layers of reality.

What Flora said about Casca's condition was disturbing. Casca was caught within an interstice, between physical and astral realms, leaving her prey to the evil spirits attracted by that damnable brand on her breast. Casca resisted the urge to scratch at it.

She returned to her macabre drawing, done partly as catharsis, partly as practise, and partly to make sure she remembered who the enemy was. She was almost done. Shaded in pencil on the paper were a quintet of grotesque forms.

Conrad and Ubik. Ubik was a weird smallish imp with a perpetual rictus and lenses over his eyes, very little body, mostly head. Conrad had a vaguely infantile face, mouth open in a disturbingly yonic manner.

Slan. She remembered what she heard through Harry's ears, the title the Skull Knight gave her. Whore Princess of the Uterine Sea. A massive naked woman of inhuman and cold beauty, emphasis on inhuman and cold, with wings, and gorgon-like hair, snake-like tendrils, not locks.

Void. A massive, tall cloaked being, his face looking like it had been flayed, and the remaining flesh desiccated, the mouth lacking lips, the eyes sewn shut, the massive brain exposed. Seemingly the leader in that encounter, his deep voice having the unmistakeable ring of authority as he proclaimed their deaths with the brands.

And Femto. He looked like Griffith had once done in armour, only made of black leather (or was it flesh?) than white cloth and shining metal, with a cloak like massive bat wings…or were they bat wings that looked like a massive cloak? But all in black. His exposed skin was even more paler than before, and his eyes a baleful red.

But the biggest change had been in his demeanour. Casca couldn't be sure whether the Griffith they knew died in the Tower of Rebirth, but whatever sparks of the man, the man whose dream they fought for, had most definitely been extinguished when Femto was born. What was left of the man was the malice, the odium, the monstrous aspects of the man. All that was left, staring at her, was the face of the enemy. It was a cruel irony that the man who had given her a weapon to defend herself from a rapist would end up perpetrating the same deed to her.

Over time, her ability to be intimate with Harry had improved, helped immensely by the calm surroundings. They hadn't gotten as far as having any kind of sexual activity again: what Femto had done and the grotesque child Casca had given birth to was still raw in her mind, and she was still fairly fragile inside. But she was beginning to get used to intimate contact once more. If she hadn't had the soul bond to retreat through, where would she have retreated to? Perhaps inwards? Would she have locked herself away from the world, unable to cope?

In the end, it didn't matter. While it ashamed her that she wasn't able to fight back, in truth, her retreat saved her sanity and her soul. Retreats in combat allowed one to fight again another day when one was stronger. And she intended to get stronger.

She knew Harry blamed himself. She didn't blame him for her plight, not once the heightened emotion was over. He'd exhausted himself trying to heal Griffith. She had ordered him to stay behind with Charlotte. And in the end…he came for her, riding on the back of the Skull Knight's horse.

He looked now a bit like he did afterwards, physically, mentally and magically exhausted, lasting only long enough to use a Portkey to head to Godo's forge. He didn't wake up fully until well after Guts did, well after she gave birth to that creature. And she had to give Guts credit, he didn't leave on his quest until Harry had awoken, and they had discussed what happened.

Casca knew that the ordeal of the Eclipse had left her cracked and broken. Her healing was still ongoing, it may never be completed, even by the time they decided to leave this place. She still woke up screaming some nights, thrashing in Harry's embrace until she remembered where she was. But even if she put on a mask that she was perfectly fine, she knew she was better off than she could have been. She may have been broken…but she was putting herself back together, and she wanted revenge.

Suddenly, their eyes opened, and Harry sat up. "I am still not used to that," he said quietly. "Not to mention I feel a little uneasy about leaving my body behind."

"It is safe here, or at least as safe as anything can be in this world," Flora said, before looking over to Casca. "May I?"

Casca handed the sketches over, and Flora peered at them, before nodding. "It's a privilege few have had, even if it's a very dubious privilege, to see the Godhand and live to tell the tale. Especially with a new member added to their dark ranks. If it is any consolation Casca, for now, they cannot hurt you directly."

"…But you think they potentially could?" Casca asked.

"They exist on a different plane entirely," Flora said. "They would need to be physically incarnated in the world. The domain you entered during the Eclipse was one of the rare occasions they could visit, so to speak. But there are other potential circumstances, when the different layers of existence align."

"All right. Well, seeing since I've been slacking off somewhat," Harry said, "I think I owe you a lesson, Schierke."

"I'll get it this time!" Schierke said.

"Hey, it took me months to learn it properly," Harry said, ruffling the green-haired witch's hair, doing so partly because it irritated her, but also because he'd grown to like her. So had Casca. Schierke could be a little bit of a brat when something irritated her, but she was actually quite studious, kind and quiet. And Schierke, over time, had come to like them too. "And I was doing it while facing a Boggart disguised as a Dementor. You've managed to get the incorporeal Patronus down pat. It's the corporeal one that gives you trouble. As I said before, it came in handy driving away the evil spirits attracted by Casca's brand. It's hard to do under stress, though, and be thankful this world doesn't have anything like a Dementor. Back home, I was the youngest person known to learn a Patronus at thirteen, and you're eleven. The fact that you've already managed an incorporeal Patronus at your age speaks a lot about your power and control. Seriously, I wouldn't be surprised that, by the time you get to my age, you'd surpass me in every way by far."

Schierke looked a little embarrassed by the praise, and Casca chuckled. "Careful now, Harry. Don't give her an inflated ego."

The green-haired witch pouted, and Flora chuckled slightly in her own turn. "Schierke is not someone who would fall prey to hubris. A witch of her standing has to understand her own limits, and not exceed them out of pride. Schierke, I have every faith in you to do this…"

* * *

As Harry and Schierke went through their lesson outside, Ivalera joining them, Casca and Flora were walking through the Spirit Tree manse. "You know, what you said about exceeding limits…many people would if they had something to protect," Casca said.

"I never said that was bad. It is trying to overreach out of hubris."

"Like Griffith?"

Flora shook her head. "Had he not attempted to seduce Princess Charlotte, he may have had a chance at realising his dream without selling his soul for power. And while events may have been shaped to that point, I refuse to believe that free will is an illusion, not completely." After a moment, she came to a decision, and led Casca through the house.

They came to a door that, by now, was familiar to Casca. A storage room, Flora had called it, though something about the way she said it had Casca on edge. Like she was hiding something. Flora opened the door, revealing what looked like a normal storage room, filled with shelves. The only thing out of place was…

 _The armour_.

Pitch black, with intricate designs. It had a familiar skull-shaped helmet. It seemed to radiate danger and bloodlust and darkness. Casca murmured in awe and horror, "What the bloody hell is that?"

"A very dangerous piece of armour," Flora said. "I show it to you as an example of what happens when one exceeds limits without heed to the cost, even if it isn't out of pride. You are a soldier, aren't you? You should know that sometimes, the body exceeds the limits on it in times of peril. I believe Harry called it an 'adrenaline rush', after a form of chemical released in the body during such times. But it can come at a cost, with the body tearing itself apart under stress. This armour…call it the Berserker Armour…it was crafted by dwarves."

"Magical armour, then," Casca said. "And very dark."

"I can tell you don't want to touch it. While it is harmless as it is now, requiring one to don it before it can be of any use for good or ill…your recalcitrance is indeed wise." Flora ran a hand over the armour, not quite touching it. "The Berserker Armour allows one to exceed one's limits, performing feats of superhuman strength and endurance, but at a terrible cost. The armour does not heal you, rather, it numbs the pain, keeps broken bones pinned in place, stokes the fires of fury and hatred so that you fight on and on and on. The last person to wear this died from losing every last drop of his blood."

Casca stared at the familiar skull-like helm. "I don't think death stopped him, if it's who I think it is."

Flora nodded. "Yes…he was always rather stubborn and determined. He gave me the armour for safekeeping, lest the time for its use come again."

"Guts would love this armour," Casca said softly. "I remember Griffith…he said Guts always tried to exceed his limits, deliberately being reckless. But…if he has someone to fight for…"

"I want to meet Guts one day," Flora said. "Still…the Berserker Armour feeds on the inner darkness of the wearer, and indeed, has a mind, you may call it, of its own. The wearer would become unable to tell friend from foe. A demon, a beast, a force of nature…call it what you will. I told Harry this story when he was drawn to this armour during that lesson. Like you, he guessed the previous owner."

"The Skull Knight seemed pretty lucid when he saved us from the Eclipse," Casca said. "Grim, dark, but…without him, we wouldn't have escaped that hell. I never really thanked him, last time we met. I was too preoccupied with…" She grimaced, thinking back to that night, where she gave birth to that misshapen _thing_. "Would this armour have helped?"

"Against Apostles? Certainly, but at a terrible cost. Against one of the Godhand? That, I cannot say. The armour is, in the end, armour. You need the right weapons to fight one like the Godhand. I daresay Guts may potentially have something like that himself. From what you and Harry told me, it was forged from Fairy Iron. Killing enough Apostles and the like…it would absorb their blood, so that, like Guts and yourself, it would exist on the astral planes as well. Whether it could kill one of the Godhand…"

"You don't know."

"No. All I can do is try and make you both stronger." The elderly witch turned to Casca and smiled. "You are lucky to have one such as he as a lover, to have a soul bond grow into love. He has been through many trials, that man, and so young. Not that you haven't yourself, Casca. Indeed, that is what makes it so…beautiful. You two have struggled and endured. So too has Guts. If not for Harry, it may be that you two may have made a couple."

Casca's first impulse was to deny it. But she also remembered, she knew more about Guts than she did when they first met. That time in the woods, when, while recovering, they shared their stories. When Guts spoke of Gambino. He didn't speak of everything that happened, but the look on his face when Casca spoke of her near-rape was telling. Beneath his belligerence, brutality, and thirst for battle, Guts was a decent man, in spite of everything that was done to him.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Flora snapped her head up. "Ah! Schierke has done it!"

* * *

They came out, and Harry looked up, and said to Schierke, "Flora's here, now. You want to do it again?"

The green-haired witch girl looked exhausted, but pleased, and so, she raised her staff, and yelled, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

A flare of white light filled the air, and a glowing silvery mist blasted out of the staff, eventually coalescing into a shape that flew around. Ivalera looked pleased. "I told you you were like an owl!" the Elf said.

And indeed, it was an owl. Harry's Patronus took the form of a magnificent stag, but Schierke's took the form of an owl. "Well done, Schierke!" Flora said.

And Schierke smiled, proud of her achievement, as did Harry. Indeed, the smiles on their faces, Casca realised at that moment, were like a father and daughter, proud of hard work paying off. They didn't quite know it then, not yet, but that was when the seed of them becoming a family, bound by bonds not of blood, first sprouted…

 **INTERLUDE ANNOTATIONS:**

 **So, another flashforward, with Casca trying to cope, and learning more about history. And Schierke learns the Patronus! Her Patronus being an owl was a suggestion of deathbearABC123's, of course, so all due credit goes to them. They'd suggested that to me during our correspondence, and they even pointed this out in the author notes of one of the latest chapters of Harry Potter and the Berserker.**

 **Now, I eventually want Harry, Casca and Schierke to basically become a family unit of father, mother and daughter, with Flora basically being the grandmother figure. From the beginning, one of the mental images I've had was of Harry, Casca and Schierke in a group hug. Isn't that an adorable image? If that doesn't touch you,** ** _you have no soul_** **.**

 **No numbered annotations this time.**


	9. Chapter 6: A Knight to Remember

**CHAPTER 6:**

 **A KNIGHT TO REMEMBER**

 _Three years after Harry and Guts joined the Band of the Hawk_ …

Harry sighed as he watched Casca chew Guts out for what he did during their assault on the Black Ram Knights of Chuder. Three years hadn't reduced the antagonism between them, at least not much. He'd grown to like the hulking swordsman, perhaps even be a minor friend, which meant that he often got roped into being peacemaker between the two.

"Oi," he said, cutting across their argument. When they shot glares at him, he said, "Guts, Cas is right. Next time, follow orders, and don't charge off by yourself. You're strong, not invincible. Not to mention you could get others hurt trying to drag you out of trouble." He turned his eyes to Casca. "And Cas…he does care about those under him. He's not a mad dog. Not anymore. Plus, I know Griffith. He probably allowed for Guts doing this."

Casca scowled and turned away. Guts merely looked down at the ground, crossing his arms. Then, Harry said, spreading his arms wide and grinning, "C'mon, group hug!"

"NO!" Casca and Guts yelled simultaneously. The former was because she didn't like being in close proximity to the burly swordsman, and the latter…still had issues about being touched.

Harry laughed. "You two are so uptight! Look, we've hit the big time now. The King of Midland has pretty much hired the Band of the Hawk on an ongoing basis."

"True, but that may increase our enemies, even amongst those who are supposed to be our allies," Casca said, her anger blunted a little for now. "There are rumours that Griffith's renown is causing jealousy and resentment."

"What, because Griffith is getting too big for his britches in their eyes?" Guts scoffed. "Nobles are the same everywhere."

"Not all of them, Guts, but you're right in that many think Griffith is rising unduly above his station," Casca said. "What's more, the rumours of magic being used in the Band of the Hawk are still spreading, and Griffith is doing little to dispel them. If the Holy See takes too much of an interest…"

"We'll burn that bridge when we come to it," Harry said. "Though what was with that Snape-like wanker I saw next to the King? If looks could kill, the King wouldn't need the Band of the Hawk, he'd just send that guy."

"Earl Julius," Casca said. "And don't let anything you say about him be heard by ears loyal to him. He's a very unpleasant individual, the brother of the King, and the leader of the White Dragon Knights. Rumour has it that he's losing favour at court due to the ransom paid to Chuder for his release. He's still very influential, though."

"Which means he's a pain in the arse we have to deal with, one of many," Guts growled quietly, before spitting out, as if it was an expletive, " _Politics._ "

"I hate it too," Casca said, in a tone that said she couldn't believe she was agreeing with Guts. "Unfortunately, we have to deal with it. That means you may have to be around nobles. So, you'll have to be polite, kneel if you have to. I'm not expecting you to like it, Guts, but the less trouble we have with them, the better." A smirk touched her features. "Of course, as we have a wizard with a knack for stealth and a mind for pranks…"

Guts matched her smirk. "Heh. Nice to see that you and I can agree on _something_. Suck it up publicly, retaliate quietly, is that what you're saying? I can get behind that."

"As long as it doesn't jeopardise things, yes," Casca said. "By the way, Harry, I got some word back about the rumours of other magic users. Supposedly, there's a witch who lives in the forest not far from Enoch. Once things are less hectic, maybe we should go check it out."

"Sadly, it may be some time before you have time to do so," came the familiar tones of Griffith.

Harry leapt into the air, and whirled to find Griffith on the stairs leading up to the walkway they were on. "Fuck, Griffith, stop doing that! How can you be a ninja in full plate armour?!"

"It's a family technique passed down through generations," Griffith said.

* * *

Elsewhere in that world, Adon Coborlwitz sneezed. And in another world, the hulking, muscular form of Alexander Louis Armstrong sneezed as well.

* * *

"…You're just messing with me, aren't you?" Harry asked. Griffith's smile was the only answer he needed. "How long were you listening in?"

"Long enough. All that I ask is that you be fairly discreet in pranking the nobility."

"As long as I don't have to be _subtle_ …"

"For all I care you could turn Earl Julius' hunting lodge into gingerbread. Casca, Harry, I'd like to speak to Guts alone, please."

Casca sighed quietly, before gesturing for Harry to follow her. As she passed Griffith, she said, "You don't keep him on a tight enough leash, Griffith. Get him to understand that he needs to keep his men alive, first and foremost."

Griffith nodded, and walked up the stairs. Soon, Harry and Casca were emerging from a tower, only to find Corkus standing there, leaning against the wall. "I could hear your little row from here," the ratty soldier said. "He's Griffith's favourite pet. Better get used to it. Of course, if you want him put down, I'm here to help…"

Casca merely stepped on Corkus' foot, causing him to tumble down the stairs. "Oops," she said unrepentantly.

As they walked away from Corkus, Harry muttered to himself, "I know you've got a genuine grievance against Guts, but what's Corkus' beef?"

"He's jealous. Plus, his pride's still bruised that Guts was better than him and his men," Casca said. "As much as I don't like Guts…his skills in battle are without reproach. And you're probably right. Griffith wouldn't draw up his plans without contingencies, especially where Guts is involved. It still frustrates me, how he says sorry so many times, and yet…" She huffed, trying to calm herself. "But you're right. He's not like he was. He just needs to think more during battle, follow orders, not just charge off."

"Oh? I remember what you did when we attacked that Chuder outpost. If I recall, you needed some cracked ribs healed."

Casca scowled. "And YOU ended up with a concussion attacking that guy in a rage. With your _own staff_ , I might add."

They ended up glaring at each other, before the pair snorted, and chuckled. "I think we weren't at our best that day," Harry said. "By the way, what do you think about the rumours that the King will be knighting Griffith?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if the King did. Not because of our achievements in battle. It's a way of ensuring Griffith's loyalty. It'll still annoy the nobles. I'm more concerned about the other rumours Judeau heard about. Chuder's hiring mercenaries as a counter to our efforts. And one of the rumours is very concerning. They say Nosferatu Zodd is one of them."

"…Who names these people?" Harry asked, only for Casca to shoot him an annoyed look.

"Zodd is no laughing matter, Harry. Tales of his exploits have been around for a few centuries now," Casca said. "Some say he is immortal. Others say he is the latest in a long line to take up the name. All who have met him and lived to tell the tale agree that he is not to be trifled with."

"Fuck, that's all I need, another immortal enemy," Harry muttered.

"They're only rumours, Harry. Both about Zodd's immortality and his being hired by Chuder. If we're lucky, we'll go our entire lives without having to deal with him…"

* * *

It was later that evening. Harry and Casca were seated together around one of the fires set up around the camp, watching as many of the Hawks, especially the Raiders Guts led, toasted their commander. From enemy to beloved commander, Harry reflected. Guts still wasn't quite used to it.

Harry had been accepted with thankfully less fanfare. But he was thanked every time he managed to get an injury healed. The suggestions he placed for hygiene were implemented, albeit to some resistance from some quarters, but the bouts of illness in the camp went down. The occasions when Harry helped the cooks for meals that didn't require a spit also went down well. Indeed, Harry traded personally cooked breakfasts for favours.

He also began forming bonds with the rest of the Band of the Hawk. To Rickert, he was almost a father figure, teaching the boy maths and English (or at least whatever it was called here). To Pippin, he was a comrade. To Corkus…well, the two tolerated each other at best.

To Judeau, there had been a time when they were gentle rivals for Casca's affections, before Judeau conceded that Harry had won. The knife-fighter and Harry were strong friends, and Harry managed to pick up some knife-throwing tricks. The two sometimes cooperated during certain operations, Harry using a spell to redirect the knives in mid-air to confuse the enemy, or to summon them back to Judeau to reuse.

To Guts, the two were…well, it was hard to call them friends per se, except with a minor friendship. Guts didn't seem to have the knack of making friends. It was more that, as much as Harry despised the Gryffindor-style impulsiveness turned up to eleven and his love of battle, Guts was a straightforward man who despised lying. He appreciated the man's honesty and straightforward nature, even if his lack of tact left something to be desired. And there was something about Guts that felt almost like a kindred spirit.

Griffith…now that was a strange one. The effeminate young man seemed both paradoxically friendly and yet distant. Harry knew by now of Griffith's dream, to rule a kingdom of his own, but he didn't seem like a megalomaniac, more like a naïve child, at least in how he desired the dream, rather than how he would attain it. Griffith seemed to have these odd alternations between a charismatic general, an impish demeanour, and yet something cold and ruthless.

And Casca…ah, now that was something that had grown. In the three years since they finally met in reality, their friendship had grown. It wasn't without its trials and travails, and even now, it couldn't be called perfect by any means. But they had gotten to the point where they had begun to sleep together in bed, albeit in the most literal of senses. Casca wasn't quite ready to take the final step just yet, despite Harry reassuring her about contraception charms. She had, after all, the encounter with the noble who had bought her, to say nothing of her fear that, if the contraception charm failed, she would fall pregnant and thus hamper the Band of the Hawk, something Harry understood. But she promised that one day, they would. Not that it didn't stop Corkus from spreading all sorts of rumours.

Still, they made no secret of their relationship. Indeed, the pair of them sometimes kissed right in front of the other members of the Band of the Hawk, despite the wolfwhistles. Anyone who dared make light of Casca falling for Harry like any maiden soon got disabused of their notions, usually by Casca herself, though repeat offenders often found themselves pranked by Harry.

One of Corkus' cronies (Corkus, showing unprecedented wisdom, actually looked horrified when his crony made the remark, and would later say that he was a fool) had once snarked that Harry must have a thing for boys, given Casca's boyish looks. Said idiot was found tied to a spit the next morning with an apple in his mouth, naked, though fortunately for him, the fire wasn't lit…though given that he was slathered in honey and ants were crawling on him, that was probably a small consolation. Griffith had joined in, with Casca stating that he wasn't exactly fond of such insinuations himself. She had confessed to Harry quietly that Griffith had sold his… _services_ for a time (and not his martial ones, either) to a rather disgusting lord by the name of Gennon in exchange for funds for the Band of the Hawk, shortly after she joined him. Harry was surprised that Griffith would go that far.

In any case, Harry and Casca were now nigh-inseparable. What's more, Harry was now a valued member of the Band of the Hawk, even if he didn't fight in as many battles. It was an ambivalent feeling. While he still felt somewhat out of place in this world, and missed his friends dearly, it was still…nice to have somewhere to belong again…

* * *

Not long afterwards, Harry and Casca flanked Guts in the church as the King of Midland knighted Griffith, making him a viscount. Guts had protested coming, naturally, intending to practise instead, until Harry pointed out a few things. Firstly, Harry would gleefully use a Body Bind to freeze Guts and drag him in here. Secondly, Griffith needed a show of solidarity from his men. Thirdly, Harry appealed to Guts' intelligence by pointing out that, if he was here, he could make a note of the various nobles…including those who viewed Griffith with disdain. Know thy enemy. Guts conceded with bad grace, but demanded Harry cook him breakfast the next morning.

Harry made a note of the various players himself. There were the long, tired features of the King, the rather unpleasantly Petunia-like features of the Queen, and the scowling features of Julius. There was the short, oleaginous Minister Foss, and a couple of nobles who supported Griffith, Laban and Owen.

And, of course, there was Princess Charlotte. The Queen was Charlotte's stepmother, having married the King after her predecessor died. She definitely had the look of a classic princess, her beautiful features delicate and gentle. Probably naïve as hell, too.

Still, this ceremony meant that the stakes were getting higher. Things were sure to heat up even more. Harry just didn't know how right he was…

 **CHAPTER 6 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **So, the post-timeskip Band of the Hawk has been shown. Now, because Harry plays peacekeeper between Casca and Guts, the relationship between those two isn't quite as bad.**

 **Incidentally, I will not apologise for the title of the next chapter:** ** _Kneel Before Zodd!_**

 **On another note, I recently finished watching the first anime series of** ** _Berserk_** **. Hoo boy, what an ending, even if they skip out over how Guts and Casca managed to get out of there.**

 **No numbered annotations this time.**


	10. Chapter 7: Kneel Before Zodd!

**CHAPTER 7:**

 **KNEEL BEFORE ZODD!**

Harry watched as the messenger dropped to his knee and began relaying the status of the castle siege. Apparently most of the battle was done, all that was needed was for Guts' Raiders to make their assault on the keep. Unfortunately, none of the men sent to capture him had returned. Corkus, predictably, had jeered, until the messenger mentioned a name that sent chills running down everyone's spines.

 _Nosferatu Zodd_.

Harry met Casca's eyes, and then looked at Griffith. "Griffith…I think we'll have to consider an extraction. If Zodd is truly as powerful as they say…Guts and the Raiders may be in trouble."

Griffith considered this carefully, before finally nodding. "Harry, head there at once. Order Guts and any of his men still present to remain stationed outside the keep. Then, use stealth to check for survivors. If Zodd is present, get out of there. If Guts refuses, use a Portkey. We'll be heading up there ourselves."

"Got it." Harry looked at Casca, a farewell passing between their eyes, before Harry looked into the distance, and Apparated roughly where he needed to go…

* * *

…And appeared with a whipcrack noise amongst the Raiders. They whirled on him, startled. "Don't do that, sir!" Gaston, one of the top Raiders, snapped.

"What's going on?" Harry asked. "Where's Guts?" He suddenly noticed a bloodied man (Dillos, he remembered) on the ground, and quickly checked him. Dead.

"The Captain seemed agitated," Gaston said. "When Dillos came out, he said Zodd had slaughtered them before dying. The Captain went inside in anger, and told us not to tell anyone else or allow anyone to follow. He entered less than a minute ago."

"Fuck, Guts, you stupid, stubborn bastard," Harry snarled, before he summoned a Patronus. Placing the tip of his staff to his throat, the end without the spear, he intoned, "Guts has gone in to confront Zodd alone. I'm retrieving him now. If you're coming to back us up, be careful."

As the ghostly stag cantered away, Harry looked at them. "Griffith and the others should be here soon. Stay here…"

* * *

As Harry strode down the corridors of the keep, he cast scanning spells at the bodies strewn all over. All dead. And they died in agony. With the blood and entrails and body parts scattered all over the place, it looked less like a fortress and more like an abattoir.

And Guts was about to join their number.

Keeping his gorge down with an effort, Harry hurried his pace, draping the Invisibility Cloak that he kept in a satchel over him, before coming to a vast chamber, just in time to hear Guts roar in fury, and the clash of a sword against another. Then, a deep, bestial voice remarked, "A most excellent parry."

Harry moved in time to see Guts facing off against what had to be Zodd. A towering mass of muscle, his face was bestial, vaguely looking like tusks, his skin a sickly yellow green, his eyes red and with slitted pupils that shone in the dim light. He was also naked, on full display. And then, he sniffed the air as Guts readied himself for another attack. "Hmm? An interloper…show yourself!"

"EXPELLIARMUS!" Harry roared, sending the spell at Zodd, who was flung away, his massive sword flying through the air.

Guts whirled to find Harry, taking off his Invisibility Cloak. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" he roared angrily. "This bastard killed my men!"

"Get out of here! Bitch at me later!" Harry yelled, only to be forced to dive for cover when a sword thrown by the monstrous man nearly turned him into a kebab.

"You dare interrupt my duel?!" Zodd roared, lumbering over and grabbing another sword from a corpse.

"Yeah! And put some fucking pants on!" Harry Apparated behind the hulking mercenary and fired a _Reducto_ at the demonic man's chest, gouging out a crater, but not penetrating it like he had hoped. "I don't want to see your cock hanging out with your murder-boner on full view!" He grabbed a rock, used the Portkey charm, and hurled it at Guts. "Catch!"

Guts swatted it away with his sword. "No! I'm settling this now!"

Before Harry could retort, Zodd swatted Harry away, sending him crashing into a wall. "I'll play with you later," Zodd snarled, before he retrieved his sword, and advanced on Guts. Harry tried to shake off the blow, but he had hit his head pretty badly. Eventually, Zodd cornered Guts, but Guts didn't back down. "So…you intend to gamble it all on a single strike instead of blocking…how interesting. Your challenge is accepted…"

As Harry struggled to his feet, Guts roared, and after a clash of blades, he brought his sword into Zodd's shoulder, causing the hulking ogre-like man to roar in pain. But then, Zodd said, "How wonderful…in three centuries of battle and bloodshed, you are the first to land such a blow…well, save for the wizard and his trickery. But he came to save you, so his valour in that regard is unimpeachable…"

Suddenly, misty smoke blasted from Zodd, surrounding him. His shadowy form shifted, twisting and contorting, before the smoke cleared…and something else was revealed. Something massive, something eldritch, something demonic.

It was a hideous beast, like something out of a clichéd image of a devil, with horns, a bestial leonine face, hooved feet, and a tail. It was sheer power incarnate, malevolence given form, bloodlust made flesh. Harry had never seen anything like it, and he hoped he never would again.

He looked at Guts, and yelled, "GUTS! GET THE FUCK OUT OF THERE!"

But Guts was too surprised and startled at the transformation to move. No, he was afraid too. As was Harry. But he had enough presence of mind to hold out a hand, and yell, "ACCIO, _GUTS!_ "

Guts slid away with a yelp, his armour and sword shooting sparks as he slid along the floor, barely being missed by Zodd's blow. As Guts slid to a halt in front of Harry, Zodd snarled, his voice now warped and demonic, " ** _ONCE AGAIN, YOU HAVE INTERFERED IN MY FIGHT!_** "

" _FUCK! YOUR! FIGHT!_ " Harry roared, before pointing his staff at Zodd. "FIENDFYRE!"

Cursed flames, in the shape of furious beasts, roared out of the staff at Zodd. For as long as he dared, Harry bathed the chamber in the diabolical fire, until he knew he was on the verge of losing control. He stopped, swaying a little on his feet from a combination of magical exhaustion and the blow to the head he got earlier. Creating a Portkey or using Apparition while suffering from a head injury was dangerous, so he couldn't use either of those to get out of here. And something told him that Zodd wasn't dead.

That something was deep, malevolent laughter. "… ** _PERHAPS I WAS TOO HASTY_** ," came Zodd's voice. " ** _YOU WERE THE FIRST PERSON IN A VERY LONG TIME TO MAKE ME FEEL SUCH PAIN._** " He appeared from the smoke, parts of his fur singed off, and a couple of open burns weeping in his flesh. But compared to what Fiendfyre could normally do, it might as well have been fleabitings.

Harry had one gamble left. He held out his hand. " _Accio_ , Portkey," he rasped.

The rock he had used to create the Portkey launched itself towards them, and Harry held on tight to Guts as it hit them, and activated, dumping them outside the keep just as Griffith, who was present with the others, was giving the orders to go inside. "Harry!" Casca yelled.

"We need to run!" Harry yelled. "He's a fucking demon! Literally! RUN! _RUN NOW!_ "

" ** _TOO LATE!_** " roared Zodd, who charged out of the doors, bowling people over, including Guts, who had stormed at him. " ** _I'M JUST GETTING WARMED UP! MY BEST FIGHTS IN CENTURIES, AND YOU WANT TO END IT NOW? ENOUGH WITH THE FOREPLAY!_** "

Griffith leapt at Zodd, his sabre biting deep into the demon's flesh, only for the horned beast to swat him away into a wall, his helmet bouncing off. But then, Zodd, as he peered at the now supine Griffith, noticed something hanging out of his armour.

" ** _THE CRIMSON BEHELIT?!_** " the beast roared. " ** _THIS CUB HAS THE EGG OF THE KING?! IS…IS THAT THE GODHAND'S GAME?_** " He then began to chuckle, the air filled with dark glee and malevolent mirth. " ** _IT SEEMS THAT OUR BATTLE WILL HAVE TO WAIT FOR NOW. BUT SOME ADVICE FOR YOU…OR PERHAPS YOU CAN CALL IT A PROPHECY. IF THAT MAN IS YOUR FRIEND, THEN YOU WILL HEED MY WORDS. FOR WHEN HIS DREAM COLLAPSES, DEATH WILL COME FOR YOU ALL, AND NONE SHALL ESCAPE IT!_** " With deep, dark laughter, Zodd flew off into the dreary sky.

Casca rushed over to Griffith. "Harry! He needs help!"

Harry said, or rather, slurred, "…Sorry, Cas. I'm…" And with that, he swayed, and collapsed to the ground. As his eyes closed, he heard Casca screaming at Guts in anger. And to be honest, at that moment, Harry couldn't blame her one bit…

* * *

When he woke up, they were back at Windham, the capital of Midland, in the barracks set aside for the Band of the Hawk. Casca was sitting, holding vigil, only to notice that his eyes were flickering open. "Harry?" she asked quietly, her eyes a little puffy and bloodshot.

"Cas…" he rasped. "Griffith, Guts, the others…are they all right?"

"Griffith's being looked at now by the physicians," Casca said, scowling. "Guts is pretty battered and bruised, but he's fine…not that he has a right to be. Over fifty of his Raiders have been confirmed dead. We're lucky it wasn't more. Harry, what the hell were you thinking, taking on Zodd?"

"I tried to get Guts out of there," Harry protested, sitting up groggily. "And when he was in danger, well, what the hell do you think I was trying to do? If you'd gone in there with those men…more of them would be dead. Zodd…he's a _monster_. He took on Fiendfyre, Cas. _Fiendfyre_."

She paled. She knew how destructive the cursed fire was, having witnessed a dream of Harry's memory of the time it was used in the Room of Requirement. "I saw the burns and singed fur on him…that was you?"

"Yeah. What the hell was he, Cas? I didn't know you actually had honest-to-Merlin demons on this world."

"…I didn't either. Not of the sort we saw. You do hear rumours, though, of entities like that. Ever since you had me looking for stuff about the magic of this world…I saw tales of creatures. Maybe Zodd was one of them. Whatever he is, he's certainly not human. Not now."

"No shit."

Suddenly, Casca was embracing him. "Harry…I know you went in there to save Guts' life…but next time, don't linger. Get him, and get out of there. Knock the idiot out if you need to. We've already lost plenty of good men today, and I don't want to add you to the list. We were lucky Guts didn't get anyone actually killed today. Those men who died, they didn't know about Zodd. But if he got any more killed, especially you or Griffith…I don't know what I would have done."

He returned the embrace. They just sat like that for a time, trying to come to terms with what happened. Then, after they broke away, Harry rubbed his head. "…Cas…do you remember what Zodd said about Griffith and that damned Behelit?"

She nodded. "He claimed that when Griffith's dream collapsed…death would come for us all. Do you believe what he said?"

"I'm not sure. I hate prophecies with a passion, as you well know, given that I've been on the receiving end of one. But he seems to know more about what's going on than he was telling. He said ' _their_ ' game. Someone he knows, and maybe even fears, given his tone, gave him that ugly piece of crap for a reason, and we're not just talking some fortuneteller trying to encourage a boy's dreams of ruling a kingdom."

"I also know how attached he is to the Behelit, Harry. Getting him to get rid of it voluntarily would be impossible, even if we told him. Still…you were right. I heard the surprise and fear in Zodd's voice when he spoke of the Behelit. What the hell could frighten something like Zodd?"

"Something bigger and meaner than him," Harry said, running a hand through his hair. "Maybe whatever the hell this 'Godhand' is. Then again, maybe that whole prophecy thing was psychological warfare. After all, prophecies have a tendency to ensnare those who try to prevent or enact them. I hope I'm right about that."

As he began to get out of bed, Casca said, "Hey, what're you doing?"

"I'm going to see Guts. How badly injured is he?"

"A few cracked ribs, that's all. Why do you want to visit him when he got you hurt in the first place?"

Harry gave a vicious smirk. "Payback. I'm going to prank that idiot within an inch of his life. Hopefully, as a lesson, it'll stick. I mean, it's a bit hypocritical, given that I've charged into situations like that myself before…but I never said I wasn't a hypocrite."

Casca returned his smirk. "In which case, are you willing to listen to a few ideas?"

 **CHAPTER 7 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **I don't apologise for the title.**

 **As for what they did to Guts, well, I'll let you guys imagine what happened, but a dress and makeup was involved at one point. And lacing Guts' food with the local equivalent of wasabi.**

 **Now, if you guys think I'm being hard on Guts here, keep in mind, what Guts did with Zodd was pretty fucking stupid. While he did it to avenge his comrades, he also went in, without backup, to fight a legendary fighter. It is certainly not OOC to believe he would deliberately swat away a Portkey, despite the fact that Harry is trying to help him.**

 **As for Zodd tanking Fiendfyre…I think it comes down to a couple of factors. Harry could only keep up the spell for so long without losing control, especially while concussed. In addition, Zodd has been an Apostle for a long time. Maybe the older an Apostle gets, the stronger they are, and the more resistant to magic. I have no doubt that, if Harry kept it up for longer, Zodd would be in trouble. Plus, Zodd actually got out of the way after the initial blast when he realised it could actually harm him.**

 **Speaking of Fiendfyre and the fight, I reckon the best music for that sequence would be** ** _An Emergency_** **from** ** _Resident Evil 5_** **.**

 **No numbered annotations this time.**


	11. Chapter 8: A Bolt from the Blue

**CHAPTER 8:**

 **A BOLT FROM THE BLUE**

Harry was about as bored as Guts was. In fact, he knew Casca, and most of the Band of the Hawk, were as well. Here they were, playing babysitter to the royals and their favoured nobles as they hunted animals during the Fall Hunt. And because they were replacing the White Dragon Knights, it also meant more heat from Julius. Griffith got to be close to Princess Charlotte, closer than many would have liked in both the nobility and the Hawks.

Harry had met the girl during Griffith's convalescence. She had been touring the grounds with her father and uncle. Harry and Casca had met them shortly after they encountered Guts and Griffith, given how Julius was complaining rather vocally about both. That being said, Harry made a more favourable impression on Julius than Guts or Griffith.

As much as the man reminded him unpleasantly of Snape, the man, despite showing disdain, was just a little civil to Harry. Indeed, he seemed curious about the hygiene practises that Harry had instituted in the Band of the Hawk, having heard about them through his own sources. For all the man's unpleasant nature, he seemed practical enough to recognise a good thing, and Harry actually spent several minutes discussing what little he knew of disease and medicine, attributing his knowledge to having come from an isolated, secretive enclave of scholars. It was a cover story Griffith had suggested, and it had worked. The King and Julius were intrigued.

That being said, Harry didn't like the way Julius looked at Casca. He looked like he didn't think much of her for being a woman, or being clearly of mixed race, a double strike for someone like her. Charlotte and her father, however, overlooked such concerns, and chatted amiably with Casca. It was clear that, to them, she was a novelty, even if Charlotte seemed rather skittish about Casca being a soldier. Then again, Charlotte seemed skittish in general.

Harry's relationship with Guts had become strained recently, after the fiasco at the castle Zodd was holed up in. Casca was not exactly on the best of terms with him anyway, but Harry had thought him something not unlike a friend. Instead, the fucker had refused to retreat all out of misplaced pride and a desire to avenge his comrades against Zodd, despite already knowing that the demonic mercenary was out of his league by the time Harry caught up with him. Harry was lucky to get off with a concussion and some bruises. Griffith had been thrown in such a way that he broke his arm.

And yet, Griffith was treating the man with kid gloves. They had overheard a conversation between Guts and Griffith where Guts had questioned why Griffith had intended to go rescue him, a single soldier amongst hundreds, and Griffith evaded the question, claiming he didn't need a reason. That at least helped Casca and Harry's minds about the issue, at least where Guts was concerned. At least the man felt guilty about it.

Casca, however, was hurt by Griffith's favouritism, and Harry and Casca were also disturbed. They had tried to persuade Griffith to dispose of the Behelit, but Griffith was stubborn, even coldly angry, and warned them that any attempt to get him to dispose of it would be considered insubordination. Indeed, if it disappeared, he would immediately have them interrogated. A rift, sadly, was beginning to grow between Casca and her leader, partly due to his favouritism of Guts, and partly due to the Behelit.

Not to mention something noticed by all the key members of the Band of the Hawk: Griffith was beginning to distance himself from them. It had become increasingly prevalent since his knighting, a gulf beginning to widen between the Band of the Hawk and its commander. Harry knew that perhaps it was because Griffith was now well along the road to gaining the kingdom that was his dream. Oh, he still socialised with the men when he had time, and he was still his usual friendly self…but there was an undeniable distance now.

In any case, Harry trolled the various hunters to amuse himself, using the occasional spell to knock their hats off, or to cause the hunting dogs to follow a false trail. The Hawks caught onto what he was doing, and they smirked in amusement. Hell, Corkus was trying hard not to chortle when Harry transfigured a rock into a mangy-looking cat that the dogs pursued.

Harry looked over at Griffith, who seemed occupied with teaching Charlotte, whom he was near, how to whistle with a leaf. Casca looked on, and rolled her eyes. "I don't know whether he's just trying to distract her from the hunt or is trying to ingratiate himself to her," she murmured quietly, Harry being the only one close enough to hear her. They knew Charlotte wasn't fond of hunting.

Shortly thereafter, a boar dashed from hiding, and startled Charlotte's horse, sending her steed out of control. She screamed as she struggled to stay on, not to mention trying and failing to control the skittish animal. Griffith promptly rode off after her. Guts looked at Casca. As much as relations between the two were strained, he still deferred to her as a commander in Griffith's absence, even if reluctantly. "Do we follow?"

"We follow. The safety of Princess Charlotte is paramount," Casca said.

* * *

They found Griffith just in time to see Griffith and the Princess standing in a creek…and then for Griffith to topple over, a crossbow bolt sticking from his chest, a look of surprise on his face as he fell. The Hawks rode over in a hurry, and as Casca and Guts crouched over Griffith, Harry approached Charlotte. "Princess, did you see where it came from?"

The Princess shook her head timidly. As the King and a few other nobles approached, Griffith got unsteadily to his feet, removing the crossbow bolt. "I'm fine. I'm sorry to worry you." He fished out the Behelit with his free hand. "My good luck charm saved my life." He shot Harry a pointed, and even smug, look.

"Father, someone shot at him!" Charlotte said to the King. She explained what happened, and after ordering the Princess to be escorted away, the King ordered a search, believing it to be a Chuder assassin, targeting the Princess.

Griffith peered at the bolt, or rather, the tip. "Don't touch the tip," he said quietly.

Harry noticed a suspicious gleam, like it was coated in something. "Poison," he murmured. "Someone wanted to make sure that even if they missed a vital area, you'd be finished anyway. Would a Chuder assassin use this hunt, though?"

"They may have contacts amongst the nobles," Casca pointed out.

Griffith looked thoughtfully into the forest. "Or maybe Chuder didn't need to," he said quietly, his eyes gazing up a nearby hill. Harry followed his gaze, witnessing someone who seemed to be glaring contemptuously and angrily at Griffith.

Earl Julius.

* * *

Harry looked at Casca as they walked back to their rooms at the barracks for the Band of the Hawk, having come back from the now-cancelled hunt. "Do you think Julius did that?" he asked.

"If Griffith thinks so, then so do I," Casca said quietly. "It wouldn't surprise me, anyway. Given how the King had shown Griffith and the Band of the Hawk the same favour that Julius and the White Dragon Knights had in the past, well, Julius is already smarting. And many still feel threatened by Griffith's rise to power. Don't get me wrong, we still can't rule out an assassin hired by Chuder…but it still raises questions about how he was supposed to get into a well-guarded event like the Fall Hunt. Griffith told me he's got the matter in hand. He thinks that the poison is a rare and expensive one, apparently the essence of the Calagile Bean. Nobles generally use it when hunting dangerous beasts like bears, so it had no reason being used during the hunt yesterday, when all they were hunting were birds, foxes and boar. On rare occasions, they use it to commit suicide, as death is quick and relatively painless."

"So Griffith's checking the apothecaries?" Harry asked.

"Yes. The bean itself is hard to cultivate, so they'd have to import it to Windham Castle. That's part of the reason for its cost."

Harry shook his head. "Fucking hell. What a mess. And we can't accuse him. Even if he's out of favour with the King, it doesn't mean that Julius can't dodge the accusations, even if we had more substantial evidence. He's like one of those Purebloods at home. Able to get away with murder due to influence and money. And you do know that after today, Griffith's definitely not going to let us take that creepy piece of crap away from him, right?"

"The Behelit? No. I mean, it did save his life, but…after Zodd, I'm very uneasy. And I have to wonder…if Griffith was ever taken away from us, what do we do?"

"You could always lead the Band of the Hawk. Cas, you're bloody good at leading. I mean, people looked up to me, but you've earned the respect of these guys many times over."

"Except for Guts. I'm…less angry at him now, but…"

"You have a right to be."

They looked up as they saw the familiar burly figure of Guts, leaning against the wall of the corridor, looking pensive, not meeting their eyes. "I know I screwed up badly back at Zodd's Castle. I was just…so angry, Casca. About what had happened to my men. I do care about them. But I wanted to pay Zodd back for what he did to them, much good that it did me. That's why I didn't back down. I was angry." He looked up at them. "Do you know how much being in the Hawks means to me? I never thought I'd have a place to belong. Not even with…not even with Gambino."

"Gambino?" Harry asked.

"…My adoptive father, if you can call him that," Guts scowled. "Taught me how to fight. But I never felt welcomed by him. But what Griffith did…despite myself, despite being conscripted, I began enjoying being part of the Band of the Hawk, part of the camaraderie. That's why I charged in to face Zodd. And yet, I nearly got you killed trying to help me, Harry. All for the sake of…I don't know whether it was pride or anger. And I'm not sure I can promise it won't happen again, not without it sounding hollow. But…I don't want it to happen again. I nearly got Harry killed, not to mention Griffith. I know how much they mean to you, Casca, especially Harry." A wistful smile touched his lips. "I wish I could be as happy as you two could be."

"…You never had a girlfriend?" Harry asked.

The swordsman scoffed. "No. I…I don't have the knack. And no, before you say anything, I don't swing the other way, no matter what Corkus says."

"Corkus is full of shit," Casca said, before walking up to Guts and poking him in the chest. "Now, listen. I am still very angry with you. And not just over what happened with Zodd. But…you're one of the best fighters that we have here. Try not to endanger anyone else again through your bullheadedness, got it? Griffith may give you carte blanche, but…"

"I know. It puzzles me too. Why he would go out of his way to save me, to give me leeway he doesn't seem to give even you two. I'm not an idiot, hard though that is to believe. For some reason, Griffith makes exceptions for me, and whenever I've asked him why, he dodges the issue. It feels nice to be wanted, and yet…I'm not sure why he does it."

"Neither do we." Harry peered at Guts, who seemed genuinely contrite. Eventually, he sighed. "…Should we start over? I mean, the first time we met, you were about to kill Cas, and you ended up with Griffith sticking his sword into you, and Cas got grass stuck in her armour from me using a Summoning Charm. So…hi. I'm Harry Potter."

Gut scoffed, but said, "I'm Guts."

"And I'm Casca," Casca added.

With that, some of the tension that had been between them lately dispelled somewhat. But even so, some still remained…

* * *

Early the next morning, Harry was summoned by Griffith to the office he had in one of the towers, lined with bookshelves. "Hermione would love this place," he murmured.

"Probably. There's history, philosophy, chemistry…though I believe a few were also 'donated' by nobles who wanted to mock me. A make-up book, a cookbook…there's even a rather exotic sex manual amongst them," Griffith said as he wrote up a letter. "I was considering asking Guts to do this, given that his loyalty is beyond reproach…but your abilities are better suited to this."

"Better suited to what?" Harry asked.

Griffith didn't reply, not immediately. Instead, he pulled out a drawer on the desk he was writing on and showed Harry the crossbow bolt. "Casca probably already mentioned this, but I have confirmed it for myself. The tip was coated in Calagile Bean essence. I have made my own inquiries, and a man called Hale had purchased some, and was indeed the only person to have done so recently. Hale is a member of the White Dragon Knights, and is one of their best archers, with both the longbow and the crossbow, a man adept at attacking from the shadows. That in itself is only one piece of evidence. As it happens, I have been paying a maid in the employ of Earl Julius to keep an eye on things within his house. Apparently earlier yesterday evening, she overheard them having an argument, or rather, Julius was chewing out Hale."

"Of course, it's not like you can bring such evidence before the King," Harry said. "The King would either dismiss it, or Julius would gainsay it. So, you brought me here for a reason. Do you want me to try and force him to confess?"

"No. What I want you to do is rather more dangerous. Indeed, if it is ever discovered, it would mean our heads." Griffith fixed Harry with his icy blue eyes. "I want you to infiltrate Earl Julius' manor. By this time tomorrow, he must no longer count amongst the living…"

 **CHAPTER 8 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Oh dear. Griffith has just escaped death, and is now planning on using Harry as an assassin. But will Harry agree?**

 **Review-answering time!** **Otsutsuki no Yami** **: The Skull Knight is heavily implied to be King Gaiseric, an ancient king who united Midland a millennium before. deathbearABC123 also posits in their story that the Skull Knight and Void of the Godhand were related somehow, heavily implied to be brothers in life (and while my knowledge of** ** _Berserk_** **canon is admittedly limited, given their reaction to each other, it's a plausible theory). The Skull Knight doesn't appear in the first anime adaptation of** ** _Berserk_** **(though he is alluded to in hbi2k's Abridged Series), though he appears in the manga and all subsequent adaptations.**

 **The Devil Hunters** **: True, but I use Griffith and Femto interchangeably for a post-Eclipse Griffith. It's a bit confusing, and I understand some people wanting to make the distinction, but Femto IS Griffith, or at least Griffith with all of his humanity purged from him.**

 **Zane Tribal Tyne Alexandros** **: A missed opportunity, that. Oh well, assume they do that offscreen…**

 **No numbered annotations this time.**


	12. Chapter 9: Of Assassination and

**CHAPTER 9:**

 **OF ASSASSINATION AND DISILLUSIONMENT**

As Harry surveyed the manor of Earl Julius, he thought back as to why he allowed Griffith to talk him into this. Griffith, not unreasonably, pointed out that if he died, then Casca would probably take command. And while Casca was a perfectly able commander, she wasn't going to be in favour with the court, with her sex alone being a big strike against her, never mind her mixed-race heritage, and the Band of the Hawk would become easy prey, or else would be dismissed from their position, still a strong blow, even if there weren't any other ramifications.

Julius had proven himself a threat before. It was best to not to give him a chance to strike again. The reason why Harry was chosen was, between his spells and the Invisibility Cloak, he was best suited to stealth.

Harry wasn't quite sure whether Griffith had an ulterior motive in mind. After all, Julius was in the line of succession to the throne, and if Griffith truly did want a kingdom, then Julius was in his way. Still, when he saw the Queen's carriage pull up, and watched her go in, he wondered why. He soon got his answer when, being perched outside the bedroom out of curiosity, he saw them going at it. His eyes widened, and then, narrowed. Leaving aside the infidelity to her husband, the fact is, Julius wasn't really a handsome man, while the Queen, while stern and harsh, was still beautiful. Maybe she was hedging her bets?

Afterwards, he heard them discussing matters, with one of them being Harry himself. He was actually heartened, slightly, to hear them taking his suggestions seriously. They weren't nice people, but they at least had some brains. Though his goodwill came to an end when he heard them both complaining about Griffith as an upstart…and then, he heard Julius call Casca a 'mulatto bitch'. And he had been around Casca long enough to know what a mulatto was.

Soon after the Queen left, Harry watched Julius once more as he trained with his son, if you could call that training. Julius seemed to be obsessed with ensuring that Adonis, a timid-looking boy, was strong enough to be ready for when he took over the White Dragon Knights. But it seemed more like Julius was taking out his anger on the boy, and an old retainer was protesting this, to no avail. Eventually, Julius tired of it, and went back inside. And that was what Harry was waiting for.

He snuck inside, following Julius to his chambers, and then waited, watching as the man stared into the fire, before hurling a goblet into it. "Damn you, Griffith!" he snarled. "If only that crossbow bolt had ended your miserable existence, I…"

" _Avada Kedavra._ "

A strobe of green light briefly lit up the room on Harry's whisper, and Julius sagged in his chair, his eyes wide in shock. Harry nodded, his grim business done, and began making for the door, only for it to open. Harry kept the Invisibility Cloak around him, only to see Adonis creeping in. "Father, I wanted to…father?" Adonis went over to his father, and gasped when he saw the man's face. He then fled, screaming for the old retainer.

Harry sighed. A shame it happened like this, the kid discovering his father's corpse. Having been made an orphan himself, and by the same curse himself, he didn't like what he had done. But protecting Griffith would protect Casca, and the other Hawks, by proxy, And despite the assassin being publicly thought to be a Chuder assassin, it was only a matter of time before Julius struck again.

Plus, the way Julius treated the kid…it reminded him too much of how the Dursleys treated him. At least the old retainer seemed to care for Adonis' wellbeing. Maybe when he had a moment, he'd get Adonis something nice as an apology.

* * *

After taking the Portkey back to the barracks, he put away the Invisibility Cloak and the dark clothing he had worn under it, and then walked out, heading to the mess hall, hoping to tell Griffith about the successful mission. However, Griffith was conspicuous by his absence. Corkus was regaling Judeau, Rickert and Pippin with a bullshit tale, while Casca and Guts were talking to each other on some issue or other. Harry knew that their companies had drills today.

Harry walked down, and sat down next to Casca. "Harry, where have you been all day? Griffith said he had an errand for you to do," Casca asked.

"Yeah, and I was going to tell him I had finished. Where is he?"

Guts scoffed. "An invitation to a party with the Princess came at the last minute. So, what was the errand?"

"Secret. I need a drink first, then I'll smarten up and head up to find Griffith. Hopefully I can speak to him alone. Using a Patronus would be a bad idea."

Guts peered at him, before his face fell into a look of understanding. "He had you kill someone."

Casca looked at him sharply. "Is that true, Harry?" she asked quietly, making sure not to raise her voice so that attention wouldn't be drawn from the others. Harry nodded. And judging by the look in Casca's dark eyes, she knew just who he had targeted. "Nobody saw you?"

"If they did, I don't know about it..."

* * *

After a drink and a quick change of clothes, Harry made his way to the hall where Griffith was having his little party. Casca and Guts had insisted on accompanying him, and as they walked along the road to the hall, Harry spoke quietly of what happened, using a Privacy Charm to prevent them from being overheard. "Do you think I did the right thing, Cas?"

"…If Earl Julius really did target Griffith…then yes. He had no qualms about killing Griffith out of envy. And what you said about how he treated his son…" Casca mused.

"…Reminds me of what Gambino did," Guts remarked softly. " _We've got no baby-sized swords here_ , he used to say." He put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "The kid could've done with toughening up, but I wouldn't wish what Gambino did on anyone."

There was something in Guts' tone that got through to Harry. Something that spoke of Gambino doing much more than just training the young Guts heavily. "I agree," Casca said. "It is one thing to take up the sword of your own free will, but…wait, hold back, I see him."

And indeed, they did. They had just been approaching the hall where Princess Charlotte had been holding her party, and they saw Griffith in finery, escorting Princess Charlotte around, before offering her his cloak to sit on. Harry, Guts and Casca approached, until they were just within earshot, the Privacy Charm hiding them from view.

"During the hunt, you asked why so many people delight in violence, the shedding of blood and ending lives," Griffith was saying. "It is a fact that few would care to acknowledge, but is a universal truth, that people have such a savage side to them. You notice this. And yet, it is also used to claim our desires, as well as to protect them from harm. Violence, then, is a double-edged sword."

"…And what do you desire? Love? Honour?" Charlotte asked.

Griffith looked at Charlotte. "I won't deny that to win love and honour are important things in life. A knight willing to fight and die for such things is a true knight indeed. But there is something more important than that…something even more precious than love or honour. A dream, one nurtured for one's own sake. People seek out the fulfilment of their dreams, regardless of their station, and such dreams can bring them to greater heights, or bring them down low. Dreams can revive or kill, and even if a dream leaves a man, it will smoulder within their hearts. One should be willing to die for the deity known as Dream, and I consider those without dreams to be little more than the walking dead, hollow shells that are mere parodies of human beings."

Silence fell for a time, before Griffith turned to the Princess with a smile. "My apologies, Princess. My little discourse must be tedious."

"No, no!" Charlotte said hastily. Then, she hesitantly began, "Lord Griffith…you are a truly marvellous person. Your nobility outshines many of those we call nobles. And yet, when you taught me how to use a leaf to whistle, you seemed like a playful, innocent child. And when you shared your thoughts, you showed yourself to be a philosopher." Casca scowled, looking away, not willing to see Griffith and Charlotte's courting, such as it was. "You are truly amazing, and I'm sure your friends believe so too. It's what draws them to you, doesn't it?"

"…Friends?" Griffith asked. "They are my soldiers, the best a commanding officer could ever ask for. They will ride into the maw of Death for the sake of my dream…but that does not make them my friends."

Harry's eyes narrowed. He felt Casca next to him stiffening, while Guts' mouth dropped open just a little, enough to be noticeable. Griffith continued, apparently unaware of his audience. "A friend should never subsist on the dream of another. Rather, a friend, to me, is someone who has a _raison d'etre_ , a reason for living, that goes beyond me. They would protect that dream, put their life, heart and soul into it, even if it meant opposing me in the process. A man who I would call my friend must be my equal in every respect."

Harry found himself clenching a fist. " _Bastard_ …"

"Harry…" Casca began, only for Harry to glare at her.

"He's _wrong_. Maybe in his little ambition, he thinks he's right…but a true friend watches someone's back. A true friend fights by your side. A true friend would listen to you, tell you when you were right and wrong, and you would listen. Even if you don't have a dream, if you just have a reason to live, one that goes beyond yourself, it is a life worth living. And some dreams are worth sharing. Tell me, Cas…what place do we have in Griffith's dream of his own kingdom? He doesn't actually want a friend…he just wants us to act as his stepping stones on the road to his kingdom. He doesn't want to share his dream."

There was a shriek from above, and a maid was coming to Charlotte, telling the Princess about the death of Julius. Harry, Casca, and Guts couldn't help but notice the cold smile that touched Griffith's lips. It was a terrible sight to behold.

"Come on," Guts said quietly, looking unusually pensive, even shaken, in a way Harry hadn't seen him before. And the trio headed back to the barracks of the Band of the Hawk, their faith in their commander shaken…

* * *

They were readying themselves for bed later in their shared room. Casca said, "Harry…I know you don't like what Griffith said…but I have known something of what he was like for some time. Not quite what he said then…but…"

"I'm not saying he's wholly wrong. A true friend has to be an equal in most ways, someone willing to fight you in certain matters…but what about you, Cas?" Harry said, looking at Casca, who was stripping off her clothes. "You have been with him longer than Guts or I. You should be more than his second in command, you should be his friend. Your loyalty to him is pretty much absolute."

"Exactly." Casca shook her head. "But…never mind. Harry…you are my friend. You have been my friend ever since we were children, even if it was only in dreams, even if we thought each other to be imaginary. Judeau, Pippin, Rickert…they are most definitely my friends. I'm not justifying Griffith's words to you. I can't. He is my commander. But you are my friend."

"…And that's the only reason I'm staying. For you and the others. Not for Griffith. But…there's something I want to ask. Remember what Corkus asked all those years ago? If he asked you to kill me, would you do it?" Harry asked.

Her response was delivered without hesitation, with a vehement shake of the head. " _Never_. If there is one thing I would fight Griffith on, no matter what, it is you. Only if you have betrayed me, and everything I hold dear, would I ever do so. And I know you would never do that." She approached Harry, and gently kissed him, her lips pressed to his own, her tongue probing at his mouth. The yearning, the hungering to affirm their connection.

He responded in kind, and their hands began to wander, touching, stroking, grasping. Clothes were eventually shed, left in untidy piles on the floor. Then, they broke away, looking at each other. "Do you really want this?" Harry asked quietly. It was a big step in their relationship, one that they hadn't taken yet, and given her bad experiences, he wasn't sure she was ready. He wanted her to be sure.

In the end, the nod he got in response was all he needed.

 **CHAPTER 9 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **So, we've had Harry assassinating Julius (and Adonis was spared!), only to learn of Griffith's true colours. We'll be having another interlude chapter before the next arc begins.**

 **Review-answering time!** **Otsutsuki no Yami** **: What happens will happen the same way as in canon, more or less. Unfortunately, Harry won't be around to help the Band of the Hawk, due to, well, let's just say that the Godhand don't want him rescuing Griffith before he's at his lowest.**

 **rmarcano321** **: For** ** _Berserk_** **, it'd be Guts, Casca, and Schierke, although I have only read about the latter in fanfics. For Harry Potter, it'd be Hermione, Luna, Tonks, and Remus. It's hard to pick any one character, really.**

 **No numbered annotations this time.**


	13. Interlude 2: Music and Family

**INTERLUDE:**

 **MUSIC AND FAMILY**

"I had always felt uneasy about Griffith. But that night…" Harry shook his head. He'd been retelling part of the story for Schierke, Ivalera and Flora. Casca was joining in, even as she practised her own ability to use magic. She could only use the magic of this world, and certainly was only just starting, but she was picking it up gradually, and would soon be entrusted with one of the magical weapons in Flora's care.

"You couldn't have known, even had you known about the Behelit," Flora said. "A Behelit goes to its true master, often going with another in the process. Griffith, in the end, could have been little more than a courier, and Zodd's prediction may have been just mistaken. Ignorance, as long as it is not wilful, is no sin. And as for Griffith's views on friendship…well, there is an old saying: there are as many opinions as there are minds to hold them."

"You make it sound like Griffith was justified in his views," Casca said with a scowl.

"If he had not made the decisions that he had made, the ones that led to his summoning the Godhand…would you be so angry with him? What happened, while pre-destined to some degree, was also shaped by the will of others. The Godhand doubtlessly engineered some of the events that led to Griffith becoming one of them…but he had a choice. He had chosen to seduce Charlotte on an impulse. He chose to sacrifice his men, even if the Godhand influenced him so that he felt he had no choice. This isn't to say that there isn't such a thing as inexorable as fate, something that robs men of control over their will…but will they still have. Those who struggle against fate…you three are to be admired for that. Now, Harry…I believe you offered to cook us a meal tonight?"

Harry smiled, and nodded. While telling their story had been somewhat cathartic, the atmosphere had become rather heavy. He often went into Enoch Village to get supplies for himself and Casca, sharing them with Flora, Schierke, and Ivalera, as was only proper. They still had plenty of money left over from their time in the Band of the Hawk…well, Harry had kept it on his person. Plus, they had robbed some bandits who had tried to rob them…which was always fun…

* * *

As music played through the kitchen of the Spirit Tree manse, Harry gently bobbed along as he began cooking up a meal. The Beatles playing _Hey Jude_ came from the speakers(1). To his astonishment, Flora turned out to enjoy many of the songs he had on his CDs, particularly some of the more ethereal ones. She was even surprised, and pleasantly so, by the _Doctor Who_ theme that he had on a TV soundtrack CD. Though explaining the concept of the TV show was, admittedly, a little difficult. Though it had been more difficult explaining it to Guts and Casca.

Flora had considered the world he left behind to have many wonders, and many horrors. Even if the Godhand didn't have a presence there to her knowledge, it had more than enough of the latter. One undeniable wonder, however, was the music from that world. The elderly witch was bobbing along to the song, murmuring, " _Nah, nah, nah, nah nah nah nah, nah nah nah nah, Hey Jude_ …" every now and then. Schierke and Ivalera were also humming along.

In a way, the music Harry had also helped keep Casca sane during their time on the run, avoiding the evil spirits along their way. They say that music soothed the savage beast, but it also was a balm to wounded souls. And while Harry wasn't as wounded as Casca, he was still a wounded soul, long before he came to Midland.

They dealt with their pain and anger in different ways. Guts did so by going out and killing Apostles, getting stronger in his own way. He was in danger of losing himself to his inner demons, but he was held back by the knowledge that his friends were safe and trying to get stronger in their own way.

Casca and Harry, while they couldn't pretend that Griffith's betrayal and diabolical apotheosis didn't affect them, needed time and relatively normal surroundings to stabilise them, especially Casca. Even now, her psyche, if not fragile per se, then had cracks running through it. Until they reached Enoch Village, Harry was pretty much all that was holding her together. That, and her anger towards Griffith. Their façade of normality and humour was a coping mechanism, one that Flora saw through fairly quickly.

Still, their time here, though it hadn't healed them completely by any means, especially not Casca, had proved salutary. Casca's genuine smiles became more frequent. When she fought practise spars with Harry, her swordwork wasn't as sloppy. The jokes were less to cover up the damage to her heart, mind and soul. And when she was serious, which was, admittedly, still most of the time, there wasn't quite that same jagged edge.

Soon, the meal was ready, Paul McCartney's voice lingering long after the song had actually ended, and they sat down to eat. Flora chuckled softly. "Your domestic skills are impeccable, Harry. In the eyes of many, you would be seen as the wife, and Casca, given her skill with a blade, would be seen as the husband. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Many men in this world fail to realise that a woman can be just as strong as a man."

"Or even a girl," Harry said, looking at Schierke. "I know you'd give most wizards back home a run for their money, even those decades older than you."

The green-haired witch looked rather embarrassed, though she smiled at the praise. She really was a prodigy, Harry thought. She had learned the spells from Harry's world, soaking them up like a sponge. In terms of power, she was almost as powerful as he was, but she far outstripped him in terms of natural ability.

Learning from Flora, as well as Schierke, had been something of a frustrating process, if only because Harry wasn't sure what truly new he had learned. Astral forms were useful, as was learning about the different layers of reality. Calling upon the elementals that governed magic was also useful, as was creating barriers without needing runes for wards. In terms of sheer magic ability, Harry was improving immensely.

But they hadn't managed to learn much new about the Godhand. Indeed, Flora told them that she had learned more from Harry and Casca's experiences than they were likely to learn from her. The only thing that they learned that was new was the possible identity of one of the Godhand: Void, she indicated, was probably the founder of what became the Holy See. And he had a relationship with the Skull Knight, whom Harry and Casca were almost certain was the revenant of King Gaiseric, the man who ruled what was once Midland over a thousand years ago.

Apostles, though, were another matter. While Flora had only had a few encounters with them during her long life, she knew enough. They sent as much information to Guts via the twinned diaries as they could, and he was grateful for it.

Apparently, not so long ago, Guts had acquired a travelling companion, an Elf by the name of Puck, while he was investigating the town of Koka and the Baron ruling over it from his castle with an iron fist. Well, travelling companion was not the term Guts used. _He's an irritating bug that talks_ , were Guts' more precise words. Though apparently, Guts learned that this was the same Elf Judeau had encountered during his time with the travelling show.

The Baron of Koka turned out to be another Apostle. Guts had slain him, though not before the Baron had launched an attack on the town. Guts had managed to get Puck to order some of the people to safety, before confronting the Baron and his soldiers. The Baron himself had transformed into a massive snake-like being, but Guts had dismembered him, and then killed him slowly with carefully-placed shots from the auto-crossbow mounted on his artificial arm. Scores of people managed to survive, but were left homeless due to the Baron razing the town.

Still, Guts was dealing with the Apostles one by one. Indeed, he had killed the Succubus-like Apostle he and Casca had witnessed murdering Corkus. And as much as Harry detested the ratty little man, with his bragging and contrarian attitude, he was a comrade and loyal to the Band of the Hawk. He didn't deserve to die the way he did.

Harry and Casca intended to join him when they felt they were ready. Of course, they'd left him with a special item, of Harry's creation. It was built into his artificial hand, one that, if he felt he truly needed their help, he could activate a rune, and it would act as a beacon for a Portkey to home in on. Casca wasn't sure Guts would ever use it, given his pride. Guts had certainly refused an actual Portkey.

"You've only been here for a few months, and already, you feel like family," Flora said.

"Family, huh?" Harry said, a sad smile touching his lips. "…You know, when we set out to save Griffith, after I managed to free myself from that stasis field…Cas and I wondered whether we would ever have one. But…we can't now."

"You think in terms of blood relation, a rather narrow definition of family," Flora said. "To you both, the Band of the Hawk was as much family as it was a group of comrades. And so too were the Weasleys and many of your friends from your homeworld, Harry. Schierke is not of my blood, and yet, she is to me as precious as any daughter or granddaughter."

"She's smart, compassionate, and cute," Harry said. "Anyone would be lucky to have her as a daughter." Schierke's embarrassment merely increased, especially when Casca reached over and ruffled the green hair of the young witch. "Hell, I'd love to have her as a daughter myself. What do you think, Cas?"

"Well, it has a nice ring to it," Casca said. "I'd be proud to have someone like you as a daughter, Schierke."

"And what about me?" Ivalera asked.

"…The irritating little sister?" Harry remarked flatly.

* * *

After the arguments that followed, and Harry began washing up, with Ivalera looking rather petulant and sullen, Casca found herself woolgathering. She thought back to one particular day, a particular battle. Of how it truly changed the course of her relationship with Guts, and how it brought Guts closer to the pair of them.

"You seem troubled, Casca," Flora remarked, stating the obvious, though as a prelude to further conversation.

"I'm troubled about many things. I was just thinking…one day in particular shook my faith in being a soldier, despite my gender," Casca said.

"Adon, right?" Harry asked.

Casca nodded. Flora merely sighed. "Casca, as I have told you before, there is nothing wrong with a woman seeking to take up arms. We just have other things to take into account. Fools who believe otherwise are just that: fools. Of course, one has to pick one's battles. In future, try not to let the taunting of some misogynistic monster like Adon Coborlwitz get to you. His taunting was because, strong though he was physically, he was weak in mind and heart, and he knew it. He thus chose a target he believed he could end with ease, a woman, and used psychological warfare to make his task easier. I know that you believe that you are weak, but that is in comparison to the likes of the Apostles and the Godhand. You are strong in body, mind and soul, something that allowed you to endure what happened to you. And it is not weakness to accept help from others, either."

"I know, it's just…when I think back to that day…I had a fever on top of everything else. And by the time I thought to ask Harry for a potion…" She shook her head. "Hindsight is 20/20, as Harry says. I was going through a lot. We all were."

Harry nodded. After all, it was shortly after he heard that speech from Griffith, the one that had shaken his faith in the man. He knew Guts' faith in Griffith had been shaken that night too. And Casca…well, she knew the man better, but still…

"And I was stupid too. I held back and let you fight until you were on the edge of a cliff," Harry said. "Hell, I didn't even use a summoning charm to stop you from going over it, I just rushed over to you, and joined you and Guts in the river."

"You were panicking," Casca said.

'Yeah, but…never mind."

As Harry finished washing up the dinner accoutrements, Schierke scooted over to Casca, and looked at her. "Did you mean that earlier? About wanting me as a little sister?"

Casca smiled sadly. "I wasn't an only child by any means, I don't even know if my family still live…but I never had a little sister."

Emotions that had been bubbling up between them eventually came to the boil. Casca, once a girl sold to a lord, only to become a warrior woman. Schierke, a girl who never even knew her parents, but now probably one of the most powerful magic users in this world. The dark-skinned woman gently embraced the green-haired witch. They were soon joined by Harry, who sat on Schierke's other side, and joined the impromptu group hug. Even Flora came around and joined them, as did Ivalera.

It was this moment, more than any other, that bound them as family. Not by ties of blood, but by ties deeper even than that. Harry regretted that Guts wasn't there to join in, but the swordsman was miles away. Not to mention he didn't do hugs…

 **INTERLUDE ANNOTATIONS:**

 **So, we've finally come to the moment I've been writing towards, an image that's been in my head since pretty much the beginning of this story: Harry, Casca and Schierke in a group hug.**

 **Also, keep in mind, this will probably be the last chapter for a while. This is as far ahead as I wrote. Hopefully, more chapters will be forthcoming in the future.**

 **1\. I originally chose** ** _Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds_** **, but** ** _Hey Jude_** **sounded more like the sort of song Harry would play to alleviate his own depression, and it'd probably work with Casca, eventually. Plus,** ** _Hey Jude_** **'s universal appeal has already been noted in other parallel worlds: in** ** _The Gunslinger_** **, the first book of Stephen King's** ** _The Dark Tower_** **(and doesn't Roland of Gilead remind one of Guts to a degree?), Roland notes that they are playing** ** _Hey Jude_** **in a saloon. In a world that, while it has some connection to Earth, is not actually Earth.**


	14. Chapter 10: Casca's Fall

**CHAPTER 10:**

 **CASCA'S FALL**

Harry hadn't fought that many battles on the front lines before. He was best suited to being a medic, behind the lines. But on occasion, he went out there on the battlefields, using magic very discreetly, as long as it wouldn't be noticed: a Tripping Hex here, a Blasting Spell there (as long as there were cannons, so that they could be passed off as cannon fire), a Disarming Charm for good measure…you get the general idea. And today, Griffith had asked him to come along.

They were apparently facing off against Chuder's Blue Whale Super Strong Heavy Assault Knights. When Harry heard that during the briefing prior to heading out, he promptly asked who was the idiot came up with such a pompous and cumbersome mouthful of a name. Griffith had promptly laughed, along with almost everyone else, before telling him that it was one Adon Coborlwitz, a Chuder commander of no small repute, though apparently he was as pompous and cowardly as he was strong and belligerent. Apparently Coborlwitz had actually been present at one of the supply bases they had raided shortly after the King had hired them on an ongoing basis, but had retreated, albeit not before setting the arsenal on fire. Harry remembered that blast from the gunpowder going off. And apparently he had been the commander of that river fortress they had captured with trickery.

Griffith did caution them that Coborlwitz, while pompous and prone to turn tail if things went badly for him, was still a powerful warrior in combat. So he wasn't to underestimated. Guts merely got one of his little smirks on his face. Frigging battle nut.

Casca seemed distracted, even out of sorts. As they rode out to battle, Harry looked at her. "Cas," he said quietly. "Are you okay?"

She seemed about to snap at him, before she subsided. "…Not really. I saw the princess give Griffith a good luck token."

Harry nodded. While Casca had mostly come to terms with the fact that Griffith could never love her the way she had wanted him to (at least until Harry proved himself real), it still hurt. Still… "You look ill," Harry said.

"…It's nothing bad. It's just…my time of the month," she admitted quietly. Their relationship and his lack of judgement on her gender meant that she felt a bit more comfortable discussing these things than with, well, just about anyone else.

Harry's mouth opened in an 'O' of understanding. "…Are you sure you'll be all right?" Harry asked quietly.

"I can still fight." Her voice held an absolute conviction.

"All right, but if I see you in trouble, I'm getting you out of there, understood?"

Had it been anyone else, save maybe for Griffith, she would have refused out of pride and stubbornness. Instead, she nodded, albeit a little reluctantly. As she rode off to join her own company, Harry wondered whether he would be regretting this…

* * *

As luck turned out, he would be. After using a number of surreptitious Blasting Hexes to simulate cannon fire, Harry started looking for Casca, only to find that she was facing against Adon. Casca was being driven back towards a cliff edge, trying her best to fend off his attacks, and trying, angrily, to get more of her own. But as Harry rushed to her aid, Adon swung a massive trident down at Casca. Harry fired an Expelliarmus…just in time for Guts to intercept the blow. Adon found the trident flung from his hands, much to his surprise, thinking it was due to Guts hitting him with the sword. "Oi, arsewipe," Harry said coldly. "Are you so weak that you can't take on more than one of us at a time?"

"Arsewipe? How dare you?! I am Adon Coborlwitz, commander of Chuder's Blue Whale Super Strong Heavy Assault Knights!" the hulking armoured man bellowed.

"Right, so that makes you _Commander_ Arsewipe!" Harry sneered, in a manner that Snape would have been proud of…if Snape was capable of being proud of the son of his old nemesis. "Surrender, and maybe I won't rearrange your face for what you did to Casca."

"Ohh? So this bitch playing at soldiers is your bedwarmer?" Adon sneered back, unwisely.

"No…I'm **_her_** bedwarmer. She's a thousand times the warrior I am…and I'm a thousand times the warrior you are," Harry retorted angrily. "She's just sick because she has a bad allergic reaction…to misogynistic fucks like you!"

Adon drew what seemed to be a spare sword. "The battlefield is a sacred ground for men! A woman here cheapens it, defiles it!"

Guts merely sneered, and swatted Adon in the head with the flat of his sword, sending the enemy commander sprawling off his horse. "Harry…he's all yours," Guts growled.

"You think you can take me on, boy?" Adon asked, looking concussed (his helmet having fallen off to reveal brutish features and close-cropped blonde hair) as Harry approached, having gotten off his horse. "I am a master of the Coborlwitz family techniques, and I…"

Harry smirked, and then smashed Adon in the face with his staff, using his magic to impart a bit more speed and strength to the blow. "That is called a love tap. Because I love to use it on people who hurt those I care about," Harry said, as Adon spat out some blood and teeth. "Anyway, you have a head that requires regular panel beating(1)! I could beat you ugly, but to tell the truth, anything I do to your face…IS AN IMPROVEMENT!" And with that, Harry sent Adon sprawling with another blow.

But even as Harry prepared to beat him into submission if not death, he heard Guts yelled, "HARRY!" He whirled to find Casca swaying on the edge of the cliff, Guts reaching out to grab her. Harry dashed over and grabbed a fainting Casca…only for Guts to grunt suddenly in pain when a crossbow bolt dug into his side. Guts began to fell, as did Casca…and Harry fell with them, hearing Coborlwitz cackle with glee.

Guts held onto Casca and Harry tight, shielding them from the branches sticking out on the side of the cliff. The impact with the water was jarring, and for a moment, they were knocked out…

* * *

The next thing Harry knew, he was choking out water, on his side, on a rain-soaked riverbank. He got shakily to his hands and knees. Eventually, he saw Guts performing mouth-to-mouth on Casca, who choked up water herself, but remained unconscious, even when her breathing began anew. "Guts…" Harry rasped. "…The crossbow bolt…"

"I'll deal with that in a moment," Guts growled.

"…You're enjoying giving her mouth-to-mouth, aren't you? Keep in mind, she's my girlfriend," Harry snarked.

"Smartarse," Guts retorted, albeit without any real venom, though he pressed his hand to Casca's head. "Shit, she's burning up. Harry, you attend to her now. If you've got anything that can help with a fever, give it to her."

"I've got a few potions, but we've got to get her somewhere dry, warm her up, otherwise, she might get hypothermia," Harry said.

Guts nodded grimly, before pulling the crossbow bolt out of him with a grunt of pain. Harry instantly began healing it. Then, they headed for a hollow between the trees, Harry using a Levitation charm to carry Casca. Once they were inside, Harry began removing her armour. He then cast Drying Charms on her clothes, as well as his and Guts'. "Shit…" Harry said, using a Diagnostic Charm. "She has a cold, on top of everything else."

"What do you mean?" Guts asked.

After a moment, Harry said, "It's her time of the month." On Guts' blank look, Harry clarified, "Her period. Menses?"

Guts grimaced. "And she went out like that?"

"Casca's fought while in that condition before, and it hasn't been enough of a problem," Harry retorted. "No…she had an illness on top of that."

"…Damned idiot," Guts said, albeit with concern underlying his voice.

Harry gently pressed a potion vial to her lips, specifically Pepper-Up Potion. She managed to swallow it. "How long will that take to work?" Guts asked.

"A few minutes. But she'll need her rest. Thankfully, it should cure her. Just don't be alarmed if steam comes out of her ears," Harry said. "The problem is…we might be waiting a while for a search party, if at all. Griffith was due to report to the King after the battle, and I don't know how many of the others he could spare. And if I Portkey us into the barracks when someone who doesn't know of my abilities is there, well, that will complicate matters, especially with the Holy See beginning to sniff around. We'll have to trek our way out for now, go somewhere a search party would be sure to come. Once Casca is well enough, anyway."

Guts nodded. "Got it." He looked out from the hollow at the woods and river beyond.

"…I know what you're thinking. Casca could take on Adon when she's at her best. You might think her temperamental…but I just think she's fiery. It's one of many things I love about her."

"You have many female warriors back home?" Guts asked.

"Well, you have legends of women like the Amazons, Joan of Arc, Mulan…I don't know how many female soldiers there are. But many of the most powerful mages I know were witches. My mother died saving my life from Voldemort…brightest witch of her generation, apparently."

Guts huffed. "…I never knew my mother. Then again, she died before I was born."

Harry blinked. "But…how did you…?"

"…I was born from her corpse," Guts said quietly. "The nearest thing I had to a mother was the camp whore of a group of mercenaries passing by…then again, Sys treated me like I was her son, so I can't complain. But she died of the plague when I was only a few years old."

"…That's horrible."

Harry and Guts looked at Casca, whose dark eyes were open, peering at them blearily. Her cheeks were still flushed, but she looked lucid, though exhausted. "Cas?" Harry said. "Are you okay?"

"I feel like something the cat dragged in and pissed all over," the dark-skinned woman said, grimacing. "Where are we?"

"We fell off the cliff into the river," Guts said. "Once you're well enough to walk, we'll start out."

Casca nodded. "…I fainted, didn't I? Fuck. I'm sorry…I just…"

"Cas…just next time, don't be afraid to sit it out, or at least ask me for a potion," Harry said quietly.

Casca nodded, before turning her eyes to Guts. "…After Sys died…what then?"

Guts grimaced, looking away. For a moment, he seemed like he wouldn't talk…until finally, he said, "I told you about Gambino…how he taught me how to fight. I was only very young. But he was a harsh taskmaster…and what's more, he blamed me for Sys' death."

"…That's stupid," Casca said.

"Of course it was stupid. But…" He shook his head. "Never mind. I don't like to talk about it."

"Did he do anything to you?" Harry asked, perhaps foolishly. "I mean…when we first met, you had a bit of an aversion to people touching you."

Guts shot him a look, but his silence was telling. Casca made a face. "Oh God, Guts…did he…?"

"No. Not _him_ ," Guts spat. "Anyway, why does it matter to you?"

"…Because it nearly happened to me too," Casca said quietly. "It was how I met Griffith." Guts looked at her curiously, but made a gesture for her to go on. "Harry knows this story. My home village was on the borders, in the mountains, and the soil there was hard to till, and harder to grow crops. The local lords often taxed more than they had to, supposedly for the war effort, and there were many lean times. Not to mention that we often had to retreat to the nearby hills when our village was attacked in the skirmishes between Midland and its rivals. It's a common story that you'd hear in a lot of places, and so was what nearly happened to me. Speaking to Harry in my dreams was probably the highlight of my existence. A travelling noble happened to spot me working in the fields, and asked my parents to sell me into his service as a maid. To tell the truth, I'm not that angry, even in hindsight, that they eventually sold me. They didn't need another mouth to feed, and I was just their youngest daughter."

"The problem was," Harry said quietly, "the lord was a paedophile."

Casca nodded. "When he tried to grab me, I fought back and jumped from the carriage…but he caught up with me, and pinned me down. I was resigned to what was about to happen…when **_he_** came, slashing at the man, taking his ear."

"…Griffith," Guts said.

Casca nodded again. "He berated the noble, asking by what supposedly god-given right did the noble force himself on me. Seeing him was like something out of a dream. He seemed like some noble guardian angel, descended from heaven to fight for me. But he didn't offer me a conventional salvation. Instead, he threw his sabre at my feet, and told me that, if I had something to protect, then I should take up the sword. The noble lunged for the sword, and I reached for it. In my fear, I wasn't sure whether he fell on the sword when I pulled it out…or whether I actually stabbed him. The end result, though, was that he died."

"And that's when you joined Griffith, right?" Guts asked, his face solemn.

"More or less. As he made to leave after comforting me for what I did, giving me a blanket to cover myself, I asked him what I should do. He told me to do as I wished. I begged to come with him, telling him that I wanted to learn to wield a sword, to fight by his side."

Guts looked at her, appraising her, before he turned away, looking into the dark, rainy night. "…I see. But…I didn't have anyone to save me," he said solemnly. "And I don't intend on feeling that way ever again. Casca…I'd say don't do something stupid like that again, but that'd be…" He trailed off, trying to think of the right word.

"Hypocritical?" Casca asked wryly.

Guts snorted, a slight smile touching his lips. "…Just think of Harry. I have to admit, you two are good for each other. I don't know whether I could find someone who'd be happy with someone like me."

"What about Griffith?" Harry asked.

Guts scoffed. "I don't swing that way. Besides…I still don't know what he sees in me, my abilities aside."

Casca nodded solemnly. "…I know. Griffith…he has a dream he refuses to abandon, even after many others would have forgotten or discarded their own. It's a grand and pure dream…but it's also a heavy burden. I saw him cry over the corpse of a boy who died, a boy who wanted to be a knight…a boy who Griffith's dream killed, so Griffith himself said. I saw him sell his services to a disgusting pederast lord by the name of Gennon, who, I believe, is now in charge of Doldrey. He is driven to ensure that those who died helping him don't do so in vain, because to make such a dream reality, he has to endure terrible things, and even do them." She looked up at Guts. "I intended to stay by his side, to be his sword every step of the way. To be the strength he could rely on in battle. I thought that wish would come true one day…and then you entered the picture."

"Cas…" Harry began, but Casca waved him off.

"Let me finish, Harry. Guts…I know we've spoken about this before, but he has never given anyone the praise he did to you. He has never conscripted anyone into the Band of the Hawk like he did with you. I envied you and despised you…and Griffith treats you differently, acts more impulsively if you're in danger. I know you don't understand why, and neither do I, and it will have us still at odds at times. But…I trust you to have my back, and I want you to trust that I have yours. I know Harry has my back, and vice versa."

"You needn't ask. You're a stubborn and irritable woman…but Coborlwitz was wrong. You just need to know your limits."

Casca scoffed at Guts. "This coming from you, Mr Reckless in Battle?"

There was laughter then. Tired, exhausted laughter…but it was one born of camaraderie. It would have to be a short respite, though. Soon, they needed to get the hell out of there, and hook back up with the Band of the Hawk…

 **CHAPTER 10 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Sorry about the wait for this one. I listened to Forces while writing most of this chapter, just as a bit of trivia.  
**

 **Now, with Casca and Guts discussing their stories…while Casca discusses her life with Guts in canon, Guts doesn't exactly do the same…but with Harry acting as a glue to keep them together in a way, it means that they have more of a camaraderie. It also means that Guts' more chauvinistic comments are lessened, partly because he doesn't want to piss off Harry, and partly because he's less antagonistic towards Casca at this point.**

 **BTW, Adon will be getting his in the next chapter.**

 **Incidentally, thanks for the praise for how I handled Casca, Harry, Schierke and Flora growing closer in the interlude chapter. This was something I pretty much intended from the start of this fic.**

 **1\. Harry's comment, I'm fairly sure, is a paraphrase of a similar line Mark 'Chopper' Read uses in the film** ** _Chopper_** **.**


	15. Chapter 11: Bonfire of Dreams

**CHAPTER 11:**

 **BONFIRE OF DREAMS**

As they traipsed through the forest, avoiding mercenaries sent as hunters, Guts took point, Harry took the rear, with Casca between them. They overheard some of the mercs claiming Coborlwitz had sent them. As they did so, Casca asked, "Guts…why do you fight?"

The hulking swordsman grunted. "It's the only thing I've ever known. You're asking the wrong question. I don't have a dream or an ambition like you guys, or someone to fight for." He chuckled morosely. "I know…it must seem pretty sad…"

"…It is," Casca said. "But…I hope you find something to fight for, not just going from battle to battle for coin or excitement."

"…I do fight for my comrades in the Band of the Hawk, true," Guts said. "But I need something more." He looked back at Casca and Harry. "Don't think me ungrateful. I have you two, and the others, to thank for spurring me to greater heights, to give me somewhere to belong…but…"

"…You're not thinking of leaving us yet, are you?" Harry asked.

"Not yet. But…you weren't the only one who took issue with Griffith's definition of friendship, Harry," Guts said quietly.

"Guts…" Casca said quietly, but anything she had to say was stilled as they came to a clearing, and Guts halted. And instantly, she drew her sword, as did Guts. And Harry readied his staff.

They were surrounded by what had to be a mix of mercenaries and Chuder soldiers. A ragtag bunch of scum and so-called knights. And standing on a rise nearby, looking altogether too proud of himself, was Adon Coborlwitz, his ugly face partly wrapped in bandages, his smile showing a lot of missing teeth. He chuckled rather menacingly, and sneered, his lack of teeth giving his voice a lisp that managed to be both comical and sinister, "Found you, and alive, it theemth. I'm glad."

"Nice to see you too," Guts retorted. "You're looking hale and hearty."

"Thurprithed? You doubtleth thought me dead."

"Nah, you're a cockroach. You'd survive nuclear winter," Harry snarked.

"Thtill, the two of you thet me back thomewhat, and as a proud knight of Chuder, I cannot abide by thith. I could never die until I paid you back for your intholenth."

"Thuffering Thucotath," Harry snarked(1). "Seriously, can you quit with the boasting and the bragging already? We already have an idiot like that in the Band of the Hawk, I don't need to listen to another."

"You dare mock me? Your death will not be thwift! We will take the three of you prithoner, and you will dithcover the very meaning of Hell on Earth! You will be thubjected to the Coborlwitth tradithonal torture technique, the Hundred Year Torment known as Monthetthu Grothi!"

"You know how to hold a grudge," Guts said.

"But can he hold a tune?" Harry asked.

"Harry, this isn't the time for singing," Casca said, rolling her eyes.

"Thtop your inane babble! Thurrender now, and you may be thpared the full thting of my wrath! But I'd much prefer it if you rethitht. That way, I am free to confithcate any limbth I feel inclined to remove. Of courthe, there ith the matter of the woman…who will be uthed for the pleathure of my men."

"Yeah, no. I'd say over my dead body…" Harry pointed his spear at Adon. "But I'd rather it be _your_ body. Besides, the last person stupid enough to try and rape her learned what getting a sword through his chest feels like."

"You're jutht a thcrawny runt with a thpear, almotht ath bad ath the woman!" Adon retorted.

"Not so. This spear is a legendary heirloom passed down through _my_ family for generations, a spear of a heroine from King Gaiseric's time, her name lost to the ages. It can pierce and cut from a distance when I want it to. LIKE SO!" He sent a _Reducto_ at one of Adon's soldiers, and the man's head suddenly burst like a rotten fruit, gore spraying everywhere. "I'm almost as bad as Casca, you say? Yeah…I'm almost as bad at showing mercy." A major bluff on both parts, but he needed to conceal the fact that he had magic until he could kill them all in one fell swoop. Better to claim he had a magic weapon than using magic himself.

Plus, he couldn't resist snarking at Adon's boasting about things being passed through his family for generations.

He then looked at the mercenaries who looked a bit more uncertain now, and said, "Let me ask you a question: is this prick really paying you enough to go up against the three of us? Little hint, the correct answer is _no_."

"Nonthenth!" Adon snarled. "There are three of them and a hundred of you! Get them!"

"Guts! I'll protect Cas! You want to take out the trash?"

Guts grinned viciously. "My pleasure," he growled, before he lashed out with his sword, beginning by bisecting a bunch of men.

Harry and Casca, meanwhile, fought back-to-back. Despite her earlier problems and a touch of exhaustion, Casca was fighting well, partly thanks to the Pepper-Up Potion. Harry discreetly cast Disarming Charms here and there, causing people's weapons to go flying, as well as _Reducto_ spells. He then sent a Tripping Hex Adon's way, and the burly man suddenly stumbled, and then tumbled down the hill he had been perched on with a yelp of surprise. He rolled to a stop near Casca's feet, and she promptly kicked him hard in the face. "Die on your feet or on your knees!" Casca snarled. "I'm feeling a lot better now, you misogynistic bastard! Or are you too craven to take on a woman?!"

Adon snarled, "How dare you, whore?! I WILL THOW YOU THE COBORLWITZ TECHNIQUETH DETHIGNED TO PUT UPPITY THLATTERNTH IN THEIR PLATHE!" He snatched a sword from one of those Casca had killed, and slashed at her.

Casca leapt over the wild swipe, and with a scream of fury, she hit him with an overhead strike that bit deeply into his head. His visible eye rolled up in his head, as if to try and look at the blade that had bisected his skull, until he sagged to his knees. "Impothhhzzz…" he tried to say, before the stillborn syllables dissolved into a slurring gurgle, and he slumped to the ground…

* * *

It would be so easy to say that the mercenaries broke when Adon died. Certainly many did flee. But others stayed. And a hulking knight wielding a flail called Samson, apparently the little (in name if not size) brother of Adon, tried to avenge his fallen sibling. Unfortunately for Samson, Guts was good at what he did, using his sword to counter the flail, before killing Samson.

Soon, they were surrounded by the corpses of scores of enemy soldiers, most of them killed by Guts, who had also taken the brunt of the wounds. And as the three of them panted with exhaustion, Judeau chose that moment to show up. "…Huh."

"Thanks, Judeau," Harry said. "But, not to sound ungrateful or anything, but can you try to come _before_ the nick of time, not after(2)?"

"Hey, it's a big forest. And we had to deal with some of those mercenaries and Chuder soldiers," Judeau said. "You guys all right?"

"Guts has got the most problems," Casca said quietly. As Judeau approached in concern, she said, "I'm fine."

"Can't Harry heal him?" Judeau asked.

"I used some spells here and there during the battle, and I had to try to make them look invisible. That takes a lot of power," Harry said. "I'll be fine with some rest. Sorry, Guts."

"I've got quite the collection of scars, a few more won't make any difference," Guts said…

* * *

They made it back to camp. Soon, Griffith returned, and showed his concern for the wellbeing of the three of them. Harry didn't know what to think anymore, though. Was that concern genuine, or was it artifice, given what he said to Charlotte. Harry didn't know, but he didn't truly trust the leader of the Band of the Hawk. Not anymore.

Still, Judeau helped heal their wounds with some of the fairy dust he had obtained during his time in the travelling show, Harry's magic being mostly exhausted. He'd put it into a gel to apply to the skin. There was a huge celebration of the victory over Coborlwitz and his knights and mercenaries, but Guts, as was his usual idiom, left the celebrations early. Harry and Casca soon followed him, the former intending to read up on his runes later, when they had some peace. He needed to find a way to recreate the stasis charm properly to help store food.

They found him on a hill overlooking their camp. "Guts?" Casca asked.

The scarred mercenary looked at them, and nodded amiably. "Wanted some alone time? You chose the wrong hill."

"No, we were worried about you," Harry said. "I mean, that stuff Judeau gave us is pretty good, better than my healing magic. I'm glad in a way he's sparing with it."

"There was no need to be worried," Guts said. It wasn't a boast, just a simple statement. "I would've taken them all on, maybe even won. I'd rather fight on with my sword than turn tail. It's my nature. Though…defending you two was part of it. Heh. I never thought I'd say that. Casca…Harry…I know I've had my differences with you two…but you're good friends. Then again, considering what you guys are trying to do…what I did feels more like a random act of violence on the battlefield. By the way, Casca, good job dealing with Coborlwitz."

Casca smiled. "Thanks. You actually meant that, didn't you?"

"Casca…you didn't need to prove yourself to me, any more than you have to to Griffith," Guts said. "You're a strong woman. Just…don't do anything stupid like that again. I'm sure Griffith would understand."

"He did. He was understanding when I apologised for my error. Guts…thanks for helping Harry and I."

"You don't need to thank me," Guts said quietly, before looking across at the camp, all the campfires lit up. "Some view, huh? Gaston…he's very good with his hands, you know. He wants money to become a tailor. Nikol proposed once to a girl who refused to marry a common soldier, so he intends to become an officer and see if that works. He's got a tendency to be reckless. Yeah, I know what you're thinking, Guts calling someone reckless. Virtually everyone here stakes their lives for a seemingly hopeless cause."

"I don't," Harry said quietly. "I fight to help Casca, you, my friends in the Band of the Hawk. My dream is, one day, I can have a good life with her."

"And the same goes for me," Casca said. "I used to have one, of being Griffith's sword, the one he relies on most…but I know that is now not even something to dream. The quiet married life isn't something that appeals to me…but doing something together with Harry…maybe one day, when Griffith realises his dream…we might go and find our own dream, together."

Guts smiled to himself. "Hmm…looking from up here, all those dreams and hopes…I can all but see them in each little light."

"A bonfire of dreams?" Casca asked.

Guts chuckled. "I guess so. You're getting as poetic as Princess Charlotte, you know that?"

Casca scoffed. "Being a princess isn't the life for me. But you're saying that everyone here brings their own flame to the Band of the Hawk?"

"Yeah. And to ensure they don't go out…they bring them to the biggest fire of them all…the blazing inferno that is Griffith's dream." His chuckle was now rueful. "But…my light isn't there. I'm just someone who has stopped at the bonfire to stay warm in passing. Casca, Harry…as long as I've had my sword at my side, I have survived, no matter the odds, long before I joined the Band of the Hawk. But you know as well as I do that that's not living, just survival. I fight for survival, to prevent myself from dying. I was taught nothing else by Gambino."

"…Do you want to leave us?" Casca asked.

"Not yet," Guts said, shaking his head. "No, that won't be for some time. But…I need to find a dream for myself. I intend to find my flame…"

* * *

Over a period of time, they fought more and more battles. Harry began expanding his knowledge of magic, experimenting with runes, hoping to use them to help the Band of the Hawk. Casca, shaken by her experiences with Adon, sparred more with Guts, looking to find more ways to beat bigger opponents, and the scarred mercenary. And the three grew closer, and indeed, so did the others. But Griffith seemed to soar ever higher, and Harry and Casca knew that things were going to come to a head soon.

That tipping point was the Battle for Doldrey. The decisive battle of the Hundred Year War between Midland and Chuder, the battle that would end that conflict. A seemingly impossible battle that Griffith would win with the help of the Band of the Hawk, but especially Harry, Casca and Guts. The battle that would signal the death knell of Guts and Griffith's bond, and that of the Band of the Hawk.

The battle whose events began the final furlong towards the Eclipse…

 **CHAPTER 11 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **So, here we are. Adon Coborlwitz got his comeuppance, earlier than in canon (and fittingly, it was Casca giving him it), and Guts is showing his inclination to leave. Incidentally, Casca's attacking of Adon was partly inspired by similar attacks used by Cloud and Link, and I basically wanted to give Casca her moment of awesome. She needs a few more. Plus, that bit with the runes, the stasis charm runes? That there is some foreshadowing. Still, the next chapter is probably going to be some time. Sorry.**

 **Incidentally, I recently obtained the Official Guidebook for** ** _Berserk_** **. It's actually quite fascinating. It also means that I understand the magic system of the series better, as I've only really watched the first anime series and the first two Golden Age films, and sadly, most of my knowledge of post-Eclipse stuff comes from** ** _Harry Potter and the Berserker_** **. I'll integrate that into the next interlude chapter, to try and reconcile the two different magic systems.**

 **BTW, I've recently gotten into** ** _Tokyo Ghoul_** **(with two of my most recent stories as of writing being crossovers, plug plug), and don't you think that the first series theme** ** _Unravel_** **would be a good theme for** ** _Berserk_** **? I'm listening to the Jonathan Young cover even as I type this.**

 **Review-answering time!** **rmarcano321** **: I never said Griffith was gay. I just had Guts making a snarky comment about. I've never thought about what Harry's ideal riding horse would be. Which video game is that? Is that the** ** _Dynasty Warriors_** **-style one? I haven't played any of them. And no, there won't be an evil counterpart to Harry.**

 **Raikaguken** **: Never say never, especially where the Moonlight Boy is concerned.**

 **Jostanos** **: That pun physically hurt me.**

 **1\. Harry is referring to Sylvester the Cat from the Looney Tunes cartoons, of course.**

 **2\. Harry is paraphrasing the Third Doctor's complaint to the Brigadier at the beginning of Episode 6 of** ** _Doctor Who: The Mind of Evil_** **.**


	16. Chapter 12: The False Calm

**CHAPTER 12:**

 **THE FALSE CALM**

In one of the deeper levels of the Astral Plane is the demesne of the entities known as the Godhand. A desolate, hellish plain, it could not truly be called a home as much as a headquarters of sorts, though no buildings existed here. Indeed, the place was very much an abstract, a realm of darkness, seemingly made entirely out of faces. Some were in gentle peaceful repose. Others were snarling or roaring in fury, hatred or pain. Others were wailing in fear or despair. And others still were showing smiles or ecstatic expressions of pleasure and lust.

A hand had five fingers if one counted the thumb, but at this point in time, the Godhand numbered merely four. They knew that soon, they would have their fifth and final member, something that had been pre-ordained by the entity they worked for, if you could call the implacable force they strove tirelessly for anything as vital or sentient as an entity. They were called angels, but they were truly demons of a most eldritch and diabolical sort.

However, of late, the members of the Godhand felt…well, it wasn't quite unease, as unease suggested fear, and they had left fear behind with their mortal shells when they underwent apotheosis. It was more uncertainty, an ironic state of affairs for entities that could perceive the flows of time and the future it swept into with more ease than mere mortals. They knew that something could potentially go wrong with their plan. It was a small and exceedingly infinitesimal chance, but it was a chance all the same, for as much as the will of man could be directed and shaped by fate, there were those who strove and struggled against it.

In the vast space of their realm, they gathered. Forming from one of the faces on the ground, a massive, sensuous and above all, _beautiful_ feminine form rose, utterly naked, save for a corset or girdle of some sort made of some dark material, somehow both as hard as chitin and yet like leather. Her wings formed, first being made of raven-like feathers, before becoming more like a bat's. Her hair was green and tendril-like, and her eyes had a vaguely reptilian air to them. Her beauty, while without peer, also had a distinctly alien and monstrous and malevolent air to it. This was Slan, Whore Princess of the Uterine Sea, an appellation granted to her by one of the Godhand's most implacable foes, and a former acquaintance of hers, the entity now known only as the Skull Knight. It was a title she embraced wholeheartedly.

From the faces in the skies above, a massive face, gurning in a perpetual smile or perhaps a rictus bulged out. It formed a strange, impish figure, mostly chubby head with lenses instead of eyes and scars mimicking the frame of glasses, while tentacles dangled from his body. Ubik, the Twister of Minds, Hearts and Souls, the one who led those who used Behelits into taking the final plunge towards sacrificing those they held dear for power.

Another figure spawned from the faces on the ground, his body being mostly an insectile carapace, his head chubby and infantile, eyes almost perpetually closed, and mouth open in a disturbingly yonic gape. When he deigned to speak, it was as a high-pitched wail or roar. Conrad the Pestilential, and perhaps the most fatalistic of the Godhand.

Melting out of the shadows was an altogether more imposing figure than any of the others. A black cloak covered his emaciated form, with the only features aside from his head visible being a pair of skeletal hands with six fingers. The head was a study in horror, with the brain oversized and exposed, his eyes sewn shut, the skin over his nose and mouth peeled back and held in place by wires. When he spoke, it was with a deep, rasping and ancient voice with solemn authority. His name was Void, Causality's Hand.

Once they had gathered, Slan said, in her sultry voice, "I presume this is to do with what we all sensed?"

" ** _Indeed. Like a stone thrown into a pond, an extraneous element is causing ripples in the fabric of causality_** ," Void said.

"And sending shivers down my spine," Slan purred. "It's rather thrilling to feel even this amount of uncertainty after so long. The source is the young wizard, naturally. His influence is relatively minor, though, are they not?"

" ** _Of course. But I can see that, if allowed to run around unchecked, he may interfere with our plans for Griffith, the one who will become our beloved and long-awaited Prince, Femto._** "

Ubik cackled. "Is that a touch of concern that I hear in your voice, Void?"

" ** _Hardly. But should he remain at liberty, he may be able to free Griffith before the Eclipse occurs, and before Griffith is in a state to accept his apotheosis, his rebirth. He has the means to do so in those artifacts he uses, in the magic he wields, and that is an unacceptable disruption to our plans. The wizard needs to be put aside for long enough until his skills can be of use. And like the woman he loves and the man whom he fights alongside…he is a Struggler, one who fights against fate._** "

"Which would make him all the more amusing, should he become part of the sacrifice to bring forth Femto," Slan said. "He doesn't seem like the sort who'd use a Behelit either."

"More's the pity," Ubik said. "I would relish the challenge of persuading him to make a sacrifice."

" ** _I am setting in motion a number of events to ensure that the wizard follows our script. A few minor amendments to this production of Grand Guignol. A whisper here, a stray arrow there, and thus, the world will be ready for Femto's advent. Our designs will not be turned aside so easily._** "

"I've been watching him, the wizard. It seems he was branded himself once," Slan observed. "The mark of lightning on his forehead. An old wound, there from not long after birth. A sign of pain and struggle and misery. There's even a lingering taint of evil there, just a faint hint, but there. Softer than the others in this world, and yet, he has been through much." Slan licked her lips. "To witness his strife and inevitable end would be a most delectable sight…"

* * *

The forest was one of those close to Windham, the one where they had been involved in the hunt that nearly led to Griffith's assassination. The light passed through the leaves in a way that left pleasing patterns of light and shade on the grass below. They went well with the blanket Harry had laid out on the ground, along with a picnic basket. It was rather surreal, but given that there was no such thing as cinemas in this world, sporting events tended to be tournaments for the most part, and restaurants tended to be either grotty taverns or very expensive affairs for the nobility, Harry's options for what he could do for a date were limited.

Casca appreciated the effort, though. She didn't despise any chivalry shown towards her, as long as it didn't go into disrespect for her gender or her abilities as a warrior. And she knew that Harry didn't view her as anything other than Casca. And that, in itself, was heartening. To some, especially in the Band of the Hawk, she was their big sister figure, stern and unwavering. To others, mostly without it, she was a woman on the battlefield, a novelty at best fit for japes, and at worst…well, she grimaced, remembering the misogynistic bile Adon Coborlwitz spewed forth.

Harry treated her like a human being, like a person. To him, her being a woman and a warrior was no contradiction. Their acquaintance had admittedly been longer than anyone else's, but still, the way he treated her was foreign to her mind. Not in a bad way, either. But he also treated her like she was his woman…and again, not in a bad way. Sometimes, being treated like this, like a woman being wooed, was actually enjoyable, if only because she knew he truly loved her.

It had been a week or so since their clash with Adon. His words were still fresh with her, but so was Harry and Guts' support. For all her earlier antagonism towards Guts, and vice-versa, the man actually did have quite a few admirable qualities. It had taken him some time to warm up to her being a warrior, but still…if she wasn't committed to Harry, then Guts might be a good second choice. Not because of his intelligence (he was more cunning than smart), or because of his temperament…but because, for all his rough nature and independent streak, there was a good man beneath it, despite everything life had hurled at him. In fact, the Band of the Hawk helped bring it out.

As she munched on a sandwich that Harry had brought to the picnic, Casca looked at her love and her lover. "How long do you think it will be until Guts leaves us?"

"Soon. I think once the Band of the Hawk's position is secure, he will go. I don't think Griffith will take very kindly to it. It doesn't mean goodbye forever. I'm working on those paired diaries and the communications mirror. Guts is our friend, Casca. More than Griffith is. Griffith may value us, but we're not his friends."

"You don't trust him, do you?"

"Not since that night. I trust him not to send us to our certain deaths. Well, unless he was certain it'd get him his kingdom. I trust you, Guts, Judeau, Pippin, Rickert, Gaston…but not Corkus. And not Griffith. We're means to an end for him, valued, but still…" He shook his head. "I'm sorry, I just…"

"No, I understand, even if I can't fully agree with you, Harry. I've known Griffith longer than you have."

"Do you think it's still a good idea, what he's planning?" Harry asked. "I heard about that planning session he had with the other nobles and generals. He's offered to capture Doldrey with just the Band of the Hawk. _Doldrey_. One of the best-fortified fortresses in all of Midland, right near the Chuder border, and certainly large enough to have one hell of a garrison. I'll put money on at least myself sent in to infiltrate it, given the Invisibility Cloak, and maybe Disillusionment Charms can work on a small infiltration force."

"I think there's another reason he volunteered. Remember, the man currently in charge of Doldrey, Gennon, was the pederast lord Griffith sold his body to for funds. I think Gennon might want to try and capture Griffith by taking charge of the garrison there…and rumour has it that he's not as good a commander as some of the others we could face. I think Griffith would exploit that."

"…And after that, what then?" Harry asked, lying down on the blanket, looking up at the clustered leaves. "I don't think you and I would be suited to the nobility, Cas. In a way, you're like Guts. You don't want to rest on your laurels, living the high life."

"If Midland would have me as a military commander, then I would gladly stay there, whether it be under Griffith's aegis or not. Otherwise…wait, is it me, or is it getting…cold?"

Harry blinked, and he realised that it was indeed getting colder…and darker. A mist seemed to be rolling in. But more than that…his senses were tingling. This was no ordinary mist. They snatched up their respective weapons on instinct, though the mist itself didn't obscure much. They could see quite a bit. But the mist was unnatural, they were certain.

And then, they heard a deep, dark, and yet soft and solemn voice echo from all sides. "… ** _And so, the wheel begins to turn once more._** "

"Who are you? Show yourself!" Casca snapped, only to stop short when they heard the unhurried, but hard and heavy hoofsteps of a horse approaching, its outline visible through the mist. There was no menace to the approach, though the outline of the massive horse and its armoured rider, the eyes glowing on both, was ominous enough to match the words spoken.

Harry gaped at the figure that revealed itself when it approached. The horse was massive, but also skeletal, covered in elaborate armour. Mounted on it was a most extraordinary apparition, a figure clad in armour reminiscent of a skeleton, complete with a skull-like helmet. Purple light glowed from the eyesockets as the figure peered down at them. Yet oddly enough, Harry felt no malice. Indeed, what he felt from the mysterious figure was weariness and determination. There was darkness here indubitably, but not evil.

"Who are you?" Casca asked. "What are you?"

" ** _A spectre of the past…and a herald of your future_** ," the figure said. " ** _Heed my words, Wizard and Warrior. Sooner than you think, a torrent of blood and darkness will be unleashed, bringing death in its wake. But take heed. Struggle, endure, and contend, like your comrade, the Struggler, born from death itself._** "

Harry aimed his spear at him, grimacing. "That sounded too much like Zodd for my liking. Are you on the same side?"

" ** _He and I are adversaries of old_** ," the figure said as he turned his horse around and began trotting off. " ** _He and his masters. Heed my words._** " And with that, his figure, along with the mist, faded away.

"…Well, that was ominous," Harry said with considerable understatement.

 **CHAPTER 12 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **And the picnic was ruined too, by a major party-pooper. Bugger.**

 **Now, I originally intended for this chapter to be about the Battle for Doldrey…but then, I had an inspiration to do at least part of this chapter with the Godhand plotting. We don't really see that. I mean, you can't imagine the Godhand sitting around in backyard, with Conrad and Ubik fighting over a game of backyard cricket (I'm Aussie, deal with it), Void at the barbecue, cooking up some good ol' fashioned Causality, and Slan sunbathing by the pool…naked, of course. Well, save for her wings and some sunglasses.**

 **Anyway, getting into their personalities was interesting, in a kind of morbid way. Both Void and Conrad seem to be fatalistic, while Slan is sensuous, and Ubik, naturally, is a troll. You rarely see them interacting with each other, just to the ones who summon them, so while they are definitely of one purpose and loyal to, well, the Idea of Evil (assuming that's actually canon, given its removal from the manga volumes), they have differing ideas to go about it, and they do sometimes goad each other a little. Eternity must get boring. Plus, foreshadowing.**

 **Also, the arrival of the Skull Knight. Why to Harry and Casca and not Guts? I'd like to think that the Skull Knight is a nomad, wandering the world, and Midland in particular, acting against the Godhand and their designs, hampering them. He happened to be passing by when he noticed Harry and Casca and decided to say hello in his usual, ominous manner. He calls Harry 'Wizard' in** ** _Harry Potter and the Berserker_** **, and I decided to use that appellation here, but I think he sees, dimly, that Casca will escape her canon fate thanks to Harry, and thus names her Warrior.**

 **Anyway, the Skull Knight knows that Harry is a disruptive influence to the Godhand's machinations. And so has given him and Casca his usual pep talk.**

 **BTW, it just occurred to me…with Harry and Casca learning magic with Flora and Schierke…if they're able to use their astral forms…does that mean Harry and Casca can help Schierke maintain Guts' sanity while using the Berserker Armour? Food for thought…**

 **Oh, and for all you** ** _Berserk_** **fans out there, I found a really good remix of** ** _Forces_** **on Youtube…**

 **watch?v=eQGTPShYHbU**

 **Next chapter, Doldrey!**

 **Review-answering time!** **rmarcano321** **: Apart from the obvious, that is, Femto/Griffith? Well, of the ones I've seen in the anime, Adon is certainly right up there. Of course, there's plenty of other vile characters. Donovan, Gambino, Mozgus, Ganishka…**

 **OBSERVER01** **: I have no plans to pair Guts with anyone for now, but eventually, I'm thinking Farnese. Assuming I get that far, anyway.**

 **No numbered annotations this time.**


	17. Chapter 13: Danse Macabre

**CHAPTER 13:**

 **DANSE MACABRE**

There were many mod-cons that Harry was grateful he'd managed to pack away for fleeing Britain, before the Goblins' hired goons attacked him. Omnioculars were one of them, not least because they were a veritable boon on the battlefield. All who used them had a sense of childlike wonder as they looked through them, for even mundane binoculars did not exist on this world, and telescopes were mostly the province of sailors and astronomers rather than the battlefield. Even Guts was fascinated by binoculars, and he tended to take a lot of what Harry had in his possession in his stride.

They were certainly proving their worth here, Harry having lent them to Casca as they surveyed the fortress of Doldrey from a distance. "The thing is…" Harry said, "that used to be a Midland fortress, right? So…what's the odds that the guy who originally had it built was compensating for something?"

Casca scoffed, while a few others nearby snickered. "Pretty good odds, I'd say. What do you reckon, Gaston?"

Gaston, Guts' usual lieutenant in the Raiders, was assigned to Casca and Harry's infiltration group. Harry, for some weird reason, thought the guy sounded a lot like Goku from _Dragonball Z(_ _1)_. The seasoned dark-haired mercenary snorted. "I agree, ma'am. That's probably why those limp-dicks from Chuder chose it, right?"

As a wave of laughter went up from the soldiers, Casca shot Gaston a look. "I understand the need for humour before battle, Gaston, but they have a very large garrison there. Quantity is a quality all of its own, and thanks to our spies, we know that leading the actual garrison is General Boscogn. He's like Adon, only not a braggart, and actually competent. Still…" A smile touched her lips. "You're probably right, about why Chuder chose this place. Now, remember, this is the decisive battle. Chuder's already embroiled in a civil war, and if they suffer a major loss here, their last major outpost in Midland territory, then they'll have to sue for peace. I know Griffith has already told you guys this, but I like to make sure it's sunk in…"

* * *

After Casca finished her little pep talk, one Harry mostly tuned out, the pair of them rode a little away to talk in private. "I have a bad feeling about this," Casca remarked. "Not about this battle…but once we've won…well, do you think Guts will leave?"

"Maybe. It depends on how high the King elevates the Band of the Hawk, and with them, Griffith. I'm more worried about Griffith's reaction. He's got this weird thing for Guts. I wouldn't call it love or anything, it's more like…Guts is both his pet, and yet, someone he wants to be his friend, by his twisted definition of friendship. I'm more worried about what that Skull Knight said."

The Skull Knight is what Guts had dubbed the mysterious being they encountered during their picnic. They had confided in the swordsman, considering that 'Struggler' seemed to mean Guts, they guessed. Harry personally felt it ominous, along similar lines to what Zodd had said. They didn't speak to Griffith, on Harry's request, Harry trusting the commander of the Band of the Hawk less and less these days.

"Did you find anything about the Behelits?" Casca asked.

Harry frowned, thinking to the researches he did in the various libraries in Windham. "There's very little about them. The sources seem divided on whether they are lucky charms or demonic baubles. I had more luck looking up stuff on Zodd and beings like him. One thing they seem to agree on is the name they give them, aside from demons. They call them Apostles. There's rumours that the Moonlight Knight Locus is one, and there's some odd whispers about a rather reclusive hunter. However, those are mostly rumours. More concrete accusations have been made against Wyald of the Black Dog Knights, and the Dread Emperor of the Kushans, Ganishka."

Casca scowled. "I've heard tales of Wyald and his cruelty and hedonism. The Black Dog Knights are infamous for being a band of criminals who delight in rape and pillage. As for Ganishka…I have heard rumours about him having supernatural powers. Then again, they have a more open attitude to magic in the east, particularly the Kushan Empire. Anyway, we'd better get ready…"

* * *

The Battle for Doldrey, as the history books would put it, wasn't much of one in the end. As Griffith predicted, Gennon hurried out with most of the remainder of the garrison, and took command of the battlefield, offering a reward for Griffith's capture, alive. Unfortunately, this messed with the tactics Boscogn had in place, though the burly general met Guts on the battlefield.

Harry knew this because, by this time, he, Casca, Gaston and the men they chose had successfully infiltrated Doldrey and put paid to the men there. They watched on as Guts' sword was shattered…only for another to be thrown to him. Harry had looked up to see a massive figure astride a horse on a nearby hill, and through the Omnioculars, he saw who it was: Zodd, thankfully clothed in what looked like the outfit of a tribal warrior. And the massive warrior seemed to notice Harry's scrutiny, for he turned, and gave a surprisingly pleasant grin.

On Boscogn's death at Guts' hand and Zodd's sword, the troops turned to retreat to Doldrey, only to see the banners of the Band of the Hawk flapping in the wind. Many fled back in the direction of the Chuder borders. Some stayed to fight. But soon, Gennon, who had fallen off his horse, was left standing on the bloodsoaked battlefield, looking bemused and forlorn. Harry noted the rotund man, his long and groomed beard, his lumpy features…and sneered in contempt, even as Griffith approached. The Omnioculars had captions for lip-reading(2), and he saw Griffith's words, _It's been a while, Lord Gennon._

 _Griffith_ , Gennon began, looking strangely hopeful, though Harry knew what was coming. _Oh, it's been too long since that night of passion and love we shared! I scratch your back, and you scratch mine, right? Will you let me go? I mean, I gave my soldiers strict orders not to hurt you, out of the feelings I had for you_. Griffith's silence was damning, looking down at the lord impassively. … _Do you bear any hatred or anger towards me?_

 _No_ , Griffith finally replied. _I feel nothing towards you. Not hatred or anger…nor the passion or love you claim we shared. I took advantage of an opportunity, an opportunity you were willing to provide me, that is all. That night meant about as little to me as picking up a pebble in my path_.

Gennon's expression twisted into anger, but Griffith's rapier suddenly lashed out and buried itself in his eyesocket. _Of course, allowing you to spread all sorts of nasty rumours is not desirable_ , he remarked.

* * *

It was later. Guts had shown up with that huge sword Zodd had thrown to him. The prisoners were being dealt with, and Harry was, once more, disgusted with Gennon when he saw the little seraglio of effeminate boys and young men, many of whom had dead-looking eyes. That was pretty bloody disturbing…though Harry's disquiet about Griffith was growing more and more. He could understand the pragmatism of killing Gennon…but something about Griffith's eyes at the moment he killed Gennon disturbed Harry. There was no passion or anger in it, just a cold clinical detachment. It was a far cry from the more compassionate Griffith Casca had waxed lyrical of to Harry.

For now, they were celebrating in Doldrey itself, waiting until the Midland army proper showed up to occupy the fortress, so the Band of the Hawk could receive their due accolades. Harry was standing with Casca at the battlements, Guts' borrowed sword between them. Guts had gone off to drink with Gaston and the Raiders, Corkus was off doing his usual bragging, while Judeau, Pippin and Rickert were enjoying the festivities.

"Griffith's pulled it off again," Harry said as he looked at the darkening sky. "And this is the big one. Griffith's within grasping distance of his dream now."

"Hmm. Which begs the question…what next?" Casca asked. "I mean, we'll probably be brought in as an official unit of Midland's army, I'll bet. But what next for us?"

"You mean you and me?" Harry asked. On Casca's nod, he said, "I dunno. Personally, I don't like being tied down. I'm like Guts in that way. But on the other hand, I'm better at making friends. And I know you wouldn't want to be just a housewife. But you wouldn't want to be a wandering fighter like Guts. I don't. I just want to help people."

The dark-skinned woman nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe we could go and help others, find a way to make that our mission in Midland. I was only spared rape because of Griffith's intervention. I was lucky. Many others aren't. Perhaps we could have Griffith persuade the King to make us his hands in such matters. And there are, of course, the advances you have been giving them." A smile touched her lips. "Yes…maybe we could do that."

"Perhaps you could…but I doubt it."

The rumbling bass voice from behind them startled them, and they whirled to find the massive form of Nosferatu Zodd standing there. On their looks, he said, "I am not here to fight. Merely to retrieve what I lent to your friend." Without any further preamble, he walked between them and took the sword. "Few adversaries warrant my full strength, and a good blade is hard to find."

"So's non-cryptic advice," Harry snapped.

Casca nodded, glaring at the hulking warrior, despite the dread she clearly felt. "When we last met, you said that when Griffith's dreams collapsed, it would mean our doom. What did you mean by that?!"

Zodd chuckled. "Exactly that. Though why would I want to spoil the surprise?"

"Do you happen to be pen-pals with a guy in skeleton armour or something? Only, we met him, and he loves giving ominous and cryptic warnings too," Harry snarked.

Zodd looked at him sharply, before he chuckled again. "He and I are foes of old. Still, that swordsman I fought last time…he is certainly a worthy opponent. I intervened to allow him to survive until we could fight anew. And you, wizard…hmm, one day, I would like to test your mettle. That cursed fire of yours was something else. And you, woman…I heard of your victory over Coborlwitz. Perhaps there is something in you after all. But I'm afraid my time grows short. When we meet again, perhaps we can do glorious battle." With that, he clambered onto the crenulations of the fortress wall, and leapt off…only to transform, and fly off into the sky.

"…Ominous," Harry said, relaxing slightly, even as Casca agreed with a nod.

* * *

It was not long afterwards, and Harry was trying to straighten the very uncomfortable clothes, the formal clothes he had bought for this occasion. They had ridden through the streets of Windham as triumphant heroes, the people cheering them. Harry didn't lap up the applause as many others did. In fact, he knew that Guts and Casca were uncomfortable with the praise too, as was Rickert. Corkus, of course, lapped it up, Judeau accepted it, and, well, who knew what Pippin was thinking?

In any case, the King promptly declared a party to be held in Griffith's honour, as well as that of the Band of the Hawk. Harry was already having flashbacks to the Yule Ball, which, while not a debacle, was still not the best of experiences. He hated the dancing lessons and the unwanted attention, plus he and Ron ended up pissing off the Patils, admittedly their own fault rather than the Patils, but it wasn't something he would have wanted to deal with. And then, there was Griffith's rather convoluted request.

Still, he had to admit, Casca looked beautiful in the ball gown she had been given, and he had had to fend off many would-be suitors, many of which, he was sure, would have sneered at Casca before for either being a woman, or being of mixed race. Casca looked ill at ease in the ball gown, true, but she still looked great in it.

After dancing, they found themselves joined by Guts as they rested, along with Rickert, who had been told some interesting information by Corkus. "Do you see those three over there? Next to the officials from the Holy See?" the boy asked.

"I see them," Guts said. There were three rather distinctive people near the priests, dressed in formal dress. There was a teenaged girl with beautiful but intense features, blonde hair, done up in short twin tails, a boy with blonde hair and rather squinty eyes, and a short, squat older man with a thick moustache and a bearing that told of his strength.

Casca clicked her tongue. "I was afraid of this. Corkus told me about them earlier. Those three are from the Holy Iron Chain Knights, right?"

Rickert nodded. "I actually talked to them earlier. The girl's name is Farnese de Vandimion, and she's the newly-elected commander of the Holy Iron Chain Knights."

"That little girl?" Guts asked, wrinkling his nose. "She doesn't look like she'd last five seconds against anyone."

"The head of that group is traditionally led by a maiden, Guts," Casca retorted quietly. "And she's not one to cross, either. The de Vandimions are one of the wealthiest families around."

"The guy's name is Serpico, and he seems to be her herald. But that older guy, that's…"

"Azan," Guts said quietly, interrupting Rickert. "I recognise him now. Azan, the Bridge Knight, or Iron Staff Demon Azan. He fought off bandits harassing an old man defending a bridge, and it is said he laughed all the time."

Casca's eyes widened. "That's the Bridge Knight?" she hissed in awe.

Harry had heard a couple of the tales about Azan before, mostly from Casca. However, he had to be wary of the Holy Iron Chain Knights. They were, after all, one of the military forces of the Holy See, sent to deal with heretics…including magic users. "You've met him before?" Harry asked Guts.

"No, but I saw his picture once. I'm surprised someone like him is in the Holy Iron Chain Knights," Guts said. "I never thought he was the religious type…"

* * *

Shortly after that, Harry and Casca, along with Guts, left for the balcony. "So, when will it happen?" Guts asked.

"When the King makes a toast," Harry replied. "Though I'm a little worried as to how Griffith got that info out of Foss."

"Wait, what?" Casca asked. "What are you talking about?"

"Minister Foss and the Queen are conspiring to poison Griffith to prevent him from being a threat…only, Griffith managed to get Foss to spill the beans somehow," Harry explained. "So, Griffith asked me to provide him with a potion to make it seem like he was poisoned. Guts is going to be helping Griffith clean up."

"Will he be all right?" Casca asked, worried, as she often was, about Griffith's wellbeing.

"He'll be fine, but don't forget to panic and go to him as if he was dead," Guts said. "Once you're out of there, follow Harry's instructions to the letter. Otherwise, Griffith might be dead for real."

Harry wondered if that wasn't a good thing. In truth, his loyalty hadn't been to Griffith personally for some time, but to the Band of the Hawk. Griffith, however…he had hinted at having leverage over Foss, alluding to the diminutive minister's daughter, as well as going as far as to take out the Queen and her co-conspirators. And while Harry didn't think much of the Queen, he still worried that Griffith was taking things too far for his dream.

Guts intended to leave the Band of the Hawk soon. Harry wondered whether he could persuade Casca to follow him. Because he was thinking, whatever Griffith desired, he was willing to do anything to get it. And if staying in the Band of the Hawk meant being forced to sacrifice his life, even if Griffith was on the verge of getting his dream, then he wasn't sure he wanted to stay. Being a sacrificial pawn once was enough, thank you very much.

Then, Griffith got his drink, and Harry could hear Casca's breath hitch as he drank after the King's speech…and then collapsed. Her anguish didn't need much acting, he knew. But was Griffith truly worth crying over? Or would his dream drag them into trouble?

 **CHAPTER 13 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **So, here we are. I know I rushed with the Battle of Doldrey, but writing battle scenes is not my strong suit, and with Adon dead, a lot of the more personal conflict for Casca is gone. So I decided to shore it up with part of the dance scene (hence the chapter title) and the introduction of Farnese, Serpico and Azan, who will appear in later chapters. The scene with Zodd was inspired by a similar one in** ** _Harry Potter and the Berserker_** **. I also wrote these bits in a way to emphasise Harry's increasing disquiet with Griffith's ruthlessness and cold attitude.**

 **Anyway, the next chapter will be the last before the next interlude. The next chapter will be Guts' departure, Griffith's folly, and Harry…ending up in strife, unable to help Casca. The next interlude will have Harry and Casca, while experimenting with their magic, witnessing Guts taking on the Slug Apostle Count…and seeing the Godhand once more…**

 **1\. Gaston, along with Conrad, is played by Sean Schemmel, aka Son Goku of** ** _Dragonball Z_** **fame.**

 **2\. I dunno whether they had this in a fanfic, but I was also inspired by electronic binoculars that did something similar in Lawrence Miles' epic** ** _Doctor Who_** **novel** ** _Interference_** **.**


	18. Chapter 14: Departure, Divison and Doom

**CHAPTER 14:**

 **DEPARTURE, DIVISION AND DOOM**

It was a couple of days after the ball, and the air was crisp and cold, with snow falling all around. Harry had learned from Guts that, indeed, Griffith had Foss' daughter kidnapped, and the Queen and her co-conspirators burned to death along with the house they were seated in. And now, here they were, Griffith and Guts, former allies, now enemies on a duelling ground on a snow-covered hill.

Harry called it that Guts would leave, and despite the persuasion everyone (bar Corkus, who made a rather nasty comment about Guts needing to watch his back should they encounter each other on the battlefield again) tried, Guts seemed resolute on leaving. Harry and Casca understood his reasons better than anyone else, but they hadn't wanted to see him go. Hell, Harry was a day away from managing to replicate twinned diaries, and Guts didn't want to stick around long enough to get a copy.

He did tell Harry quietly that he would be most likely staying with the blacksmith Godo, though. " _Once everything's died down_ ," he had said, " _send it to me._ "

However, Griffith had come along too, and was barring Guts' path. And Harry now realised that his earlier disquiet about Griffith had blossomed into major unease. The way Griffith glared at Guts…it was like a jilted lover, an obsessive madness dancing in his eyes. Harry was now pointing his staff at Griffith, who had his own sabre out and pointed at Guts. "You would point your staff at your commander?" Griffith asked coldly.

"Yes. You've been going too far lately, Griffith. We've bled for your cause, but this is the last straw upon last straws," Harry said. "If Guts wants to leave, let him. Leaving the Band of the Hawk doesn't mean he isn't our friend anymore. He's just following his own dream, instead of scampering after yours like a dog. Didn't you say that a friend is someone who is willing to challenge you to follow their own dream? Only, you're looking very hypocritical at the moment. But then again, I don't think you're actually capable of friendship, Griffith. Everyone looks up to you…and you look down on them. You've got your dream within reach. Why won't you let Guts pursue his?"

Griffith didn't reply, merely returning his glare to Guts, though Harry got the feeling his words stung. It was the hulking swordsman who said, "Harry…just let me do this. It's like he said: I have to win my freedom through a duel."

Harry, after a moment, lowered his staff with an annoyed scoff, and gently led Casca away from the battle zone. "Stubborn as a mule, aren't you? Just…promise me one thing, Guts. If you do leave…stay in touch."

Guts gave an affirming grunt, but readied his sword. The two opponents stared each other down, both determined and focused. But oddly enough, there was a reversal of their states when they first duelled. Guts had a strange serenity in his expression that wasn't there before, whereas Griffith's glare, cold though it was, hid what had to be a maelstrom of emotion, like a blizzard, not quite focused. Dangerous and deadly…but not as calm and precise as Griffith normally was.

Suddenly, a clump of snow fell from the lone tree on that hill, and the two men lunged forward. The one and only attack they launched was almost too fast to see, but by the end of it, Guts' blade was resting on Griffith's shoulder, and Griffith was staring at Guts in absolute shock, his sabre cleft in twain, part of the blade even now just stabbing into the snow near the two combatants, seconds after the lightning attacks ended. Soon, Griffith sagged to his knees in the snow, an utterly dumbfounded look on his face.

"…I'm sorry," Guts said quietly to Griffith, and to the others, before he turned back to the Band of the Hawk. "I hope to meet you all again. But I have my own dream now. I hope you all find your own. Especially you two." He nodded to Harry and Casca, and gave a small smile. "Farewell."

"…Guts," Casca murmured, but Harry put a hand on her shoulder. Then again, it seemed that Guts at least gave them the courtesy of a longer farewell than he originally planned.

Then, Harry yelled, "Guts…you'd better follow your dream until the bloody end, you hear?!"

Guts gave a brief wave of acknowledgement, not a cheery wave, but a solemn answer of conviction. Casca went over to try and help Griffith up, only for him to almost shove her away. "…Leave me," he said quietly, his tone sounding utterly broken.

Harry almost felt sorry for him. But given his attitude to Guts leaving, his refusal to listen to reason, to say nothing of the more dubious steps he took to get where he was now, it was still 'almost'…

* * *

Over the next couple of days, the weather, as if in concordance with Griffith's mood, and indeed that of much of the Band of the Hawk, went from snowing to raining. Griffith had shut himself in his quarters for a long time. Then, one night, he simply disappeared. Casca feared the worst, that Griffith had gone to commit suicide, a concept Harry shut down mercilessly. Griffith was many things, but for all his strange actions on the day of the duel, suicide was probably the furthest thing from his mind.

Casca was a little angry at Guts for leaving, perhaps irrationally so, and she chewed out Harry for not doing more to stop him from leaving, given the effect on Griffith. Harry pointed out that Griffith seemed irrational when he stopped Guts from leaving, that he was not only being hypocritical, but starting to show dangerous signs of derangement. That blew up into what was probably their worst argument since Harry first came to Midland, and they ended up sleeping in separate rooms for the next couple of nights, and not generally talking to each other.

Given their current cooling of their relationship, Harry instead threw himself into his work on the things he was trying to work on. Stasis runes, which he was still fine-tuning. The paired diaries. The paired mirrors. He'd managed a breakthrough on the diaries on the day they finally received word from Griffith, or so they thought. But a breakthrough in the wall that had sprung up between him and Casca wasn't coming any time soon. Oh, he knew things would calm down eventually, that either himself or Casca would eventually approach each other and apologise hesitantly, and that would be when a hole was knocked into the wall between them.

Unfortunately, things would prove otherwise…

* * *

Harry wasn't sure why Griffith didn't ask for them to gather in this field in person. Instead, a letter was sent, one Casca read out perfunctorily, and ordered them to move out. Most were puzzled, but Harry was suspicious. Voicing those suspicions led to him just being glared at by Casca. Then again, Harry wondered mutinously whether he actually had displaced Griffith in Casca's heart at all. After everything they had been through and shared, was their relationship really so meaningless next to Griffith?

Then again, everyone felt ill at ease with Guts' departure, like something vital to the Band of the Hawk was gone. Guts had been a sort of glue that held many of them together, and with him gone, and Griffith incommunicado until the letter arrived, things were tense between all members of the Band of the Hawk. And they needed something to do.

Which was why, instead of staying on his horse, Harry had gotten off it, and had set up a folding table where he was working on the stasis runes. He was so close to getting them working properly, he could taste it…and indeed, he knew that, once he got those down and figured out the recipe, he could make ice cream. And Harry was thinking, in his currently mutinous mindset, that if the Band of the Hawk was on the verge of falling apart, then maybe he could go to Enoch, track down the witch rumoured to live nearby. Whether he took Casca or not was up in the air at the moment.

Judeau came along, getting off his horse. "Still working on those?" the knife-thrower asked.

Harry nodded, chewing at his lip. "These need some concentration to work on. So don't bother me."

"Something seems to be bothering you already. Your fight with Casca."

"If you're looking for permission to move in on her, fuck off," Harry said petulantly, slapping his hand down on a paired diary. "There's a difference between a bad argument and breaking off a relationship."

"Hey, I wasn't going to ask you that! That would be in poor taste! No, I'm just worried about you two."

"Don't be. Let us worry about this. Anyway, she's only pissed because I think Griffith was a fucking idiot." Harry felt a glare on his head, and looked to see Casca nearby. "What? It's true, even if you hate it!"

"Griffith's NOT an idiot!" Casca retorted.

"Going after Guts like it was the worst breakup ever?" Harry retorted. "Guts may have been one of our most valuable fighters, but he's one guy, and he had the right to leave to do his own thing. If Griffith's all torn up about it, then maybe he shouldn't be in charge. And quite frankly, given what he's done lately, if you're sane, you should be scared of him. He killed the Queen, kidnapped Foss' daughter, ordered me to kill Julius…and for what? For all I know, since he got sore over Guts leaving, he's been screwing Princess Charlotte."

Judeau scoffed, trying to defuse the situation, as he examined one of the paired diaries, picking it up and looking it over. "A bad idea. There's no official engagement, and if Griffith was crazy enough to do so, well, we'd be screwed."

"Griffith isn't that crazy," Casca said coldly, glaring at Harry.

"Bollocks," Harry said. "You're just too blinded by him to see it. If I left, he'd probably just have someone kill me."

Casca seemed set to yell at Harry, getting down from her horse, only for a roar from Pippin to reach their ears. "INCOMING!"

Suddenly, there was a hail of arrows from the sky, and a Shield Charm protected Harry, Judeau, and Casca. Casca's horse fell with an agonised scream. And then, Harry saw it. An arrow sticking right through the stone he had carved a stasis rune through. A stone which was now glowing ominously. He knew what was about to happen. His eyes met Casca's, and a moment of bleak understanding passed between them, anger forgotten, leaving behind fatalism.

Harry had mere seconds to act at best. He fired a Banisher at Casca, sending her flying through the air, just in time. Suddenly, a shockwave of magical energy blasted out, turning the world from positive to negative briefly in its wake. A sound accompanied it, sounding something like a mix between the flatulence of an eldritch deity and a clock winding down. The sheer pain washed over Harry's body, and with a scream that seemed to take forever to emit, he collapsed to the ground…

* * *

In the realm of the Godhand, the titular entities looked on the events happening. They watched as the Band of the Hawk fled their pursuers, desperate to survive. They watched as Griffith, the larva that would become their awaited prince Femto, was tortured by the King of Midland, with Griffith making a pointed remark about how the King had reacted so badly because he felt desire for his daughter. They saw the King try to assault his own daughter in an unhinged state, only to be repulsed violently, and the King's sanity dwindled down to next to nothing, birthing an obsession with destroying the Band of the Hawk.

Ubik cackled with malevolent glee. Conrad hooted with mirth. Slan chuckled maliciously, licking her lips.

And Void?

Void was silent. He didn't feel mirth, just satisfaction, perhaps even mild elation, that the amendments to their plan had gone off without a hitch. He had helped redirect the arrow so that it hit the stasis rune in just the right way to seal away the wizard. He wasn't dead, nor was he completely frozen. Rather, time moved at a crawl within his prison. An hour within his prison meant a week outside. And Void had manipulated the arrow to make sure that, eventually, the stasis rune would run out of energy within a year, so the wizard would be freed, in time to help rescue Griffith.

And perhaps, then, he would become a sacrifice, one of a multitude to fuel the birth of Femto. Yes, that would be apt…

 **CHAPTER 14 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **So, there you have it. Harry's trapped, the Band of the Hawk are on the run, and shit's on track for the Eclipse to happen.**

 **Now, a few things to discuss. Firstly, driving a temporary wedge between Harry and Casca was something that grew up over writing this chapter. I'd imagine Harry supporting Guts leaving and being antagonistic towards Griffith would do this, as Casca, while she is disquieted by Griffith's actions, is still loyal to him. Plus, it gives a moment where Casca regrets what she did, and she thinks Harry might be dead, or that she may never see him again. It wasn't that big an argument per se, it wasn't going to kill off their relationship forever, but it did test it considerably. It was probably a little forced, so apologies.**

 **Secondly, Harry being put into stasis is something I had decided from an early stage. With the Invisibility Cloak and magic, Harry could help rescue Griffith far earlier than in canon, and the Godhand wouldn't be having any of that. I was tempted to have Harry hear Void shout 'the World!' just before the stasis rune malfunctions, but I couldn't figure out a way to do it without it sounding silly, or else like Void really badly wanted to reference** ** _JoJo's Bizarre Adventure_** **.**

 **Anyway, the next chapter will feature Harry and Casca using their astral forms…and meeting the Godhand again…**

 **Review-answering time!** **Guest** **: Yes. That is partly why I wrote this fic. I also posted a challenge on the forums of DZ2, whitetigerwolf, and Gabriel Herrol, called 'Whatever Doesn't Kill Her…'. Basically, during the Eclipse, Casca awakens a special power, from any crossover the writer wants, one that allows her to fend off Femto until the Skull Knight arrives. Keep in mind, this doesn't necessarily means she can beat Femto, rather, that she can avoid her canon fate of being raped into an infantile state.**

 **OBSERVER01** **: While I agree that the Godhand engineered things to make Griffith as amenable to their deal as possible, Griffith was NOT a good person. He hadn't been for some time. He doesn't truly care about other people, given his way of friendship, and while he may value other people, he doesn't care about them, not for some time. So, I would think that, if done right, he'd accept almost any deal with the devil if it meant gaining his kingdom.**

 **Akuma-Heika** **: Oh, I didn't know that was the term for it. Thanks.**

 **No numbered annotations this time.**


	19. Interlude 3: Evil in an MC Escher Ripoff

**INTERLUDE:**

 **EVIL IN AN MC ESCHER RIPOFF LANDSCAPE**

Harry and Casca were flying through the air. Well, not quite like the air per se, and not quite flying. Rather, their astral forms were moving through the astral plane. By now, Casca had managed to master dissociating her astral form from her body, the first major step into using this world's magic. From what he had learned, magic in this world, because it invoked the spirits to act as catalysts and intermediaries, was generally more energy-efficient and could be more powerful. However, his world's magic, while more taxing, also was somewhat more versatile and didn't rely on spirits who could potentially be capricious.

Harry, having managed to master a lot of it before Casca, was now her guide, with Schierke and Flora watching their bodies. This was partly because they were going to see if they could find Guts, and see if they could communicate with him. Harry had done so a few times already. He'd also finally gotten to see Puck, and agreed with Guts (and Judeau) that he was annoying as hell.

Guts seemed relieved to hear from Harry. Although the hulking swordsman was more of a solitary beast than anything, he had grown to value his friends, and hearing a familiar voice, even if it was ethereal, helped. His ruthlessness and anger had been tempered by the familiar voice. However, Guts was heading to a nearby town to check out rumours that a local Count, who had been obsessively killing people he denounced as heretics, was an Apostle.

As they approached, Harry and Casca felt a dark feeling wash over them. "…It feels like the Eclipse," Casca murmured. "The presence of those creatures…not the Godhand, but Apostles…"

"Do you want to keep going?" Harry asked.

Casca merely nodded grimly. And the two headed through into the castle, in time to see Guts attacking a massive slug-like creature with a rotund face on it, while a teenaged girl who resembled Charlotte greatly watched on with Puck. Then, Guts shot the Apostle with the cannon concealed in his arm, much to the girl's distress, which only deepened when Guts sliced off the Apostle's head.

Harry and Casca landed near Guts. He looked back at them only briefly, though he nodded to Casca. "So, you've learned to tag along."

"Who're you talking to?" the girl asked. "What have you done to father?"

Guts looked at the girl with some pity. "…Theresa, was it? That's what your old man called you. I'm sorry you had to see this, see what your father has become. And what I have to do. But the world is cruel. And people are even crueller. He's killed many people. Vargas is going to be his last victim." With that, he raised the Dragonslayer to strike…

…Only for the Count to grasp a familiar-looking object with his tongue. A Behelit. Only, unlike Griffith's, this one was a green colour. "… _I summon you_ …" he rasped.

And then, the features rearranged themselves, the eyes opening and weeping torrents of blood. But that eldritch howl that Casca and Guts heard, even Harry heard through his link to Casca, didn't eventuate, even when the mouth opened. And instead of the face-riddled landscape of the Eclipse realm…

Harry blinked, with all the strange staircases and archways at strange angles present. "…Why the fuck are we in an MC Escher painting?"

Theresa noticed him, and then did a double take. They were in an astral realm now, so she could presumably see them. "Where did you come from? What manner of spirit are you?!"

Casca, taking pity on her, walked over, and smiled as reassuringly as she could manage. "Hi. I'm Casca. I'm…friends with this meathead. We both are. I'm sorry that you saw what he did to your father, but…people like **_him_** tore apart my comrades and allies." Her face twisted into a scowl, and she looked around at the staircases and archways littering the bizarre landscape. "And if I'm right…he's called for backup." She hurried Theresa and Puck over to Guts, the girl and the pixie disoriented by the strange dimensions.

"How did we get here?" Puck demanded.

"The Behelit," Casca said. "It's a key to unlock a door, and a beacon. Guts and I have had the dubious pleasure of experiencing this before. Guts…if Femto shows up…stay back."

Guts turned to Casca, his eyes narrowed. "After what he did to us? To you?!"

"We don't need you dying before we're all ready to fight!" Harry snapped.

"How touching," came a familiar, sensuous voice, and they saw once more the familiar form of Slan.

"…Put some clothes on, there's a child present," Harry snarked, to cover the fear he felt at the sheer overwhelming presence.

Slan chuckled, even as she was joined by the emerging figures of Void, Conrad, Ubik…

…And Femto.

Harry felt Guts tense alongside him, and placed a hand on his shoulder gently. Only in this astral world could Harry actually touch Guts. Guts stiffened, before relaxing slightly.

"Who are you people?" Theresa demanded, her eyes wide with fear. "What are you doing here?!"

"Your father's desperation and fear summoned us, dear child," Slan said, in a parody of maternal concern. "We answered."

"Griffith," Guts growled, glaring at Femto, who merely gave a cold, thin smile back.

"My, my, I would've thought you would have charged up at me, thinking with your sword first instead of your brain," Femto said with cold mirth.

"At least we know when to fight our battles, Femto," Casca said, equally coldly, but with rage and fury rather than mirth and contempt. "But know this. Your days are numbered, along with the rest of the Godhand."

"Such hostility," Femto retorted. "One would think that we parted on bad terms."

"We did," Casca said, struggling to hold onto her own anger. Harry knew why. This was the man, no, the demon that raped her, corrupted their child, and wiped out their comrades. Fear welled up within her, true, and he was sure unwanted memories were resurfacing, but so did the anger and hatred. "Don't you **_dare_** ever think otherwise."

"He doesn't care, Cas," Harry said, before he met Femto's gaze, albeit with difficulty. The newest member of the Godhand, indeed, all of them, had an overwhelming _presence_. He could tell both Guts and Casca were having a hard time staying on their feet, due to their brands flaring up. But they were staying up by sheer force of will. It was a mistake to come here, Harry and Casca knew, and they might be lucky to escape with their lives and sanity intact. "But you will pay for what you did to us, and to the Band of the Hawk. Maybe that won't be for some time…but it's as inexorable as the causality you claimed brought Griffith to your side, turned him into…you."

Slan chuckled. "You have fire and passion. That's what the three of you share, a naïveté combined with passion that has you struggle against all odds. It's very entertaining."

" ** _To survive, to struggle, that has always been part of this one_** ," Void said, his gaze (such as it was with sewn-up eyes) on Guts. " ** _Such a spark leads to self-destruction. I have seen it happen before._** "

"Shut the hell up," Guts snarled. "Are you going to actually kill us, or _bore_ us to death?!"

" _Such a predictable attitude from a struggler, but that is not why we are here_ ," Conrad said. " _One of our Apostles has summoned us in dire need._ "

" _Yes! Yes, my angels! I have been brought low by this fool!_ " the slug-like Apostle, once the Count of this area, said eagerly. " _I need a new body, and in exchange…I offer him._ "

Casca scoffed. "You stupid bastard," she said softly, pity mixing in with her anger and revulsion towards the Apostle, as well as the pain of her brand acting up, and the memories she was trying to suppress. She walked over, keeping herself between Theresa and the Godhand. "The Godhand only accept sacrifices which are _valued_ by the one making the sacrifice."

" ** _And in any case, this one, along with the woman, are already branded sacrifices to Femto. Their body and soul are his alone to claim_** ," Void intoned.

"I beg to differ," Harry said. "Casca is mine, and I am hers. And Guts is nobody's but himself."

"So you claim," Femto said. "The brands tell differently."

" _Shut_ _ **up!**_ " Guts snarled, before he finally lost his self-control, and charged up at Griffith, only to be halted by a simple look, Griffith holding Guts in his tracks by sheer overwhelming power. Guts then grinned painfully. "You're just sore that I kicked your scrawny pale arse that day. Had to cheat by selling your soul to these demons! So, I have to ask…if I'm so fucking insignificant, why are you holding me in place instead of taking the fucking hit? Are you scared?"

Dragonslayer was inching forward, and Griffith noticed if the slight widening of his eyes were any indication, though his smirk merely deepened, and Guts was hurled away on a blast of force. "Such tenacity," Slan purred. "The sheer amount of pain that must be going through your brands would kill lesser men."

"Admirable, but foolish," Ubik said, before floating over to the Count. "The woman spoke the truth earlier, though. A sacrifice must be something you value. When you first sought power, you gave us the life of your wife, whom you caught fornicating with heretics in an orgy. Even then, despite her infidelity and apostasy, you valued her. Now, your daughter is the price of your rebirth."

"…It can't be," Theresa whispered in horror. "Mother was kidnapped and murdered by the heretics, he wouldn't have…"

"Sacrificed her? Oh, but he did, sweet child," Slan said, her voice dripping with false compassion. "Do you think we give out power out of charity? One of the truisms of the world is that all power has its price, and your mother's life was the coin with which your father paid for it."

Ubik opened up a window in space and time, showing Theresa, the Count, and those present a woman involved in a massive orgy, one of the participants being a goat-headed thing. Harry couldn't even look away from the vacant, bliss-filled look of the woman who must've been Theresa's mother. Casca, however, tried to block Theresa's sight, only to have her hand batted away. Then, more images followed. Theresa's mother smiling at the Count, back when he was human, his eyes filled with betrayal and horror, hers with some strange satisfaction, not anything as mundane as post-coital bliss, but something darker. Then, the Count summoning the Godhand, the woman's end, a blur of nightmarish images…and then, Ubik closed the window. "You see now what kind of people your parents were?" he asked in what could have been a kindly tone in almost anyone else's voice.

Theresa looked to the remains of her father, who rasped, " _Yes…it's true…I am sorry…Theresa_ …"

Harry felt a presence, and realised that one of the walls of this bizarre chamber was missing. A maelstrom of dark flames was emerging from the abyss he could see out of this gap. "Cas…" Harry said quietly.

Casca looked in the direction he indicated, and flinched. "What the hell is that?"

" ** _The fate of any one of the Apostles that falls_** ," Void intoned mercilessly, before his attention returned to the Count. " ** _That fate threatens to consume you. You know this, as you were told the price of what your rebirth entailed when the gift was granted unto you. Either be dragged into oblivion for your failure, or sacrifice your daughter to regain your power. Choose now._** "

The Count eventually looked at Theresa, and something human came across the remains of his inhuman features. "… _I can't_ …"

The maelstrom of flames grew closer, and ethereal bodies seemed to form within the vortex. At their head seemed to be a man with deformed features. "Vargas!" Puck yelped. "That's Vargas!"

The lot of them watched in horror as the ethereal, flaming forms grabbed hold of the Count's remains, and dragged him in, before they themselves were dragged down into the deep, deep darkness. Casca embraced Theresa, trying to comfort the girl, even as she screamed and wept for her father.

"Well, well, well," Ubik mused. "He still had too much humanity left in him, to a fault. He forgot the first lesson of Apostlehood: leave your humanity at the door." He cackled.

"Shut up!" Harry roared in unison with Guts, before he added, "You toy with people's lives, and you make bad jokes like that over this girl's distress? She's lost her mother, and now her father, and now, you joke about it? I don't know why I expect any different, but you just sink to new lows every time we've met."

" ** _Which has only been twice, Wizard_** ," Void pointed out. " ** _In any case, our presence is now no longer needed. Fare thee well._** "

"We're not done," Guts growled.

"We are," Femto said. "My advice is, give up on your dream of trying to kill us. After all, you of all people should know how dangerous they can be."

"You didn't care about anyone's dreams but your own, Femto," Casca said coldly. "Not since Gennon. Not since you decided to get your kingdom with a path paved with our bones."

Femto favoured her with a look, and a cold smile. "You know, that is the worst damage you have done since my apotheosis," he snarked. And then, the Godhand disappeared, and the realm they had entered into with them.

Theresa collapsed, now that Casca no longer had a physical presence in a non-astral plane, and began weeping. Guts, after a moment, walked over to Theresa, and held her, albeit a little awkwardly. "Hey, what the hell were those things?" Puck demanded.

"I'll explain later," Guts said curtly. "Now shut up a moment." To Theresa, he said quietly, "Hey." She looked up at him with bloodshot, teary eyes, filled with fear, anger, and sorrow. "You probably hate me for what happened to your father. Your father brought it upon himself, selling his soul to those monsters, and killing all those innocent people. Maybe you don't understand that he was a monster. Maybe you don't want to. But in the end, he wanted you to live. So live your life. You've still got a good pair of legs. Stand up, and keep moving forward. You can walk your own path, even if it's for revenge against me. Though I can't recommend revenge as a way of life. I take on those monsters as a vocation, as a means of getting closer to killing those so-called angels you saw. Saving others is a bonus. So stop crying like a baby, and live. The father who cared for you gave his life for yours. Don't waste it."

Theresa seemed about to react angrily to Guts' words, but Casca, even in her astral form, placed a hand on her shoulder. Theresa seemed to feel it, and closed her eyes. "…What's the difference between you and my father? You both leave corpses and misery in your wake," she said bitterly.

"…Maybe it's only that I'm still alive, and he isn't. Maybe that's the only difference. Or maybe it's something else. I'm not a good man, girl. But…I have friends who try to make me better than I am. I have something to live for. Find that for yourself, even if it's the dream of avenging your father. See ya."

And with that, Guts turned and left, Puck following after a hasty apology and farewell to Theresa, and Harry and Casca decided it was time to go themselves. Though not before Casca, not knowing whether she would be heard, knelt down to a troubled Theresa, and said, quietly, "He's not wrong. You're still alive. If you don't think you have anything left to live for, then find it. You're still young, you have an entire lifetime in front of you. Don't waste what your father used the last dregs of his humanity to defend."

Oddly enough, Theresa seemed to hear Casca's words, or something. Because something in her face cleared up, and a resolve seemed to be in her eyes, in the set of her lips and the furrow of her brows. She then left the room, and Harry and Casca left themselves…

* * *

Later, Harry had left Flora's house, troubled by the earlier events. Flora had berated them for their recklessness in remaining, albeit gently. Harry, with Flora's help, had managed to figure out a way to recreate something like a Pensieve, and the two witches were currently looking over Harry and Casca's memories of the earlier events. Casca, exhausted, merely wanted to sleep.

Harry, meanwhile, wandered to the boundary of the wards that protected Flora's domain from intruders, particularly of the mystical variety. Over the last week, he'd done this, because a touch of guilt had been nagging at his heart. And the source of said guilt greeted him as he arrived, making a hideous groaning gurgle.

"…So, you're still here, huh?" Harry asked, looking at the misshapen form, half-hidden in the shadows. "I wonder if it's because of me, or Cas, or both. I mean…I know I've said it before, but I'm sorry for how I've treated you earlier. It's Griffith's fault, well, Femto's fault that you ended up the way you did."

Another groaning gurgle came from the figure.

"I dunno whether that means you want to forgive me, or you want to kill me. I don't speak Malformed Demon Baby language," Harry said, the joke sounding utterly hollow. Sighing, he continued, "The Skull Knight said you were tainted by evil, by demonic essence…but does that mean you are evil? I dunno. It's only now, that we have time to think and contemplate, that I'm wondering…if I was somehow able to help you, would you help us? Or would you be like Griffith?"

Another gurgle came from the figure. Harry sighed. It wasn't much of a conversation anyway.

"…Maybe I can find a way to, well, bring you back to what you should've been, before Femto violated your mother." He looked sadly at the figure. "Maybe one day, we can be a proper family. And the funny thing is, there's something I have to say that a lot of people have been saying to me. You have my mother's eyes, you know."

With that, he stood, turned around, and left. One day, he hoped, that monstrous foetus that was once the child of himself and Casca could be restored to what he should have been. The proof that it was his was in the single visible emerald eye, peering out from the malformed flesh, staring at him in what he hoped was yearning. A yearning he now shared, to be a family again…

 **INTERLUDE ANNOTATIONS:**

 **So, there you have it. This chapter was largely based around the events of the third volume, albeit based on deathbearABC123's interpretation of events. Though I also changed things around to reflect Guts' changed character by this point. He's still rather brutal and lacking in empathy, but he doesn't hide his better side as much, hence the Edward Elric-style speech. This is partly due to Harry's influence and that of Casca, as they help keep him sane and grounded. He still pushes himself beyond his limits, but his temper is not quite as easy to inflame, though he still has his moments. It just took Femto a bit more prodding than in canon to set Guts off.**

 **Now, I'm sure you'd be thinking, wouldn't Casca be triggered by seeing Femto again? Well, to be perfectly blunt, she is. But she's covering up her fear with the anger she feels. This Casca is stronger now, and her recovery time with Flora and Schierke, as well as with Harry, has helped her not only cope with Griffith's betrayal, but also steel herself for a reunion.**

 **Plus, the appearance of the demon baby…only, with some possible hope for it?**

 **Anyway, to be perfectly honest, this will probably be the last chapter for a while, as the rest of this is pretty much the leadup to the Eclipse. Plus, my inspiration for this story is running dry for now. If you want more Potterverse/** ** _Berserk_** **action, I must insist, if you haven't already, that you read deathbearABC123's** ** _Harry Potter and the Berserker_** **. That being said, the next chapter will feature Harry encountering a certain blonde half-sibling pair, and making an impression on both…**

 **Review-answering time!** **OBSERVER01** **: I can sort of make inferences. He certainly was born poor in the streets of a castle city, as shown in flashbacks. Possibly an orphan, given how he never speaks of his parents. Maybe, like Guts, he was a bastard child of an anonymous mother and never knew his father. He certainly got sword instruction from somewhere, so maybe he got taken under the wing of someone, like Gambino did with Guts, who taught him how to fight, although I'm sure it was voluntary for Griffith. And given how well-read he was, he must have had some education, an impressive feat for what seems to be a street urchin. Griffith is certainly an enigma in some ways, especially where his earlier life is concerned. Even the official guidebook is maddeningly vague on his past: he is simply stated as being born 'as one of the exceedingly common masses', though given how it says he formed the Band of the Hawk with his 'companions', it suggests that at least a couple of his comrades were in the same situation.**

 **No numbered annotations this time.**


	20. Chapter 15: Stasis Quo

**CHAPTER 15:**

 **STASIS QUO**

As they broke camp in the morning, ready to move out once more, as they had for the past month or so, Casca looked down at the diary that was the sole reminder of the one she loved, the one she had quarrelled with. Now he was trapped, frozen like a fly in amber, as good as dead, and she couldn't do anything about it. And she hated it. More than anything else, she hated weakness and impotence, not as much a lack of physical strength as much as the ability to do anything to redress the situation.

And what a situation they'd ended up in. It had taken until they captured one of their pursuers that they found out why they had been attacked. Casca cursed Guts often these days, but she also cursed Griffith. Guts may have caused Griffith's breakdown, his lapse in judgement, but it was Griffith who bedded Princess Charlotte…and thus catalysed this crusade against the Band of the Hawk. Indeed, it was becoming more of a crusade with the Holy See getting involved: soon after they were forced to flee, the Holy See set up camp around the bubble formed when that stasis rune went off. It was rumoured that even the feared inquisitor Mozgus had taken a personal interest in the case.

She opened up the paired diary, the one Judeau gave her after that horrid morning. Night after night, since the pursuit began, she had written in it. She poured out her feelings to it, hoping beyond hope that it would show something when she woke up. A reply from Harry, whether it be a tirade or a term of endearment. But nothing came.

Until this morning. Until she saw five words that brought such a sense of relief to her heart.

 _I'm here, Cas. I'm alive_.

* * *

When he'd woken up, it was to find himself trapped in what looked like a marble, space warping and shimmering around him. In truth, he knew it was the event horizon of a runaway stasis field, something that couldn't be crossed without major harm, only dispelled. He could see the blurs of movement around the area. The brief appearance of fires, of shadows and forms.

It took him a few minutes to take stock, and another few minutes to stew in self-recrimination for what happened. He didn't regret the sentiments he expressed to Casca, just the wording he used, the alienation between them. And now, here he was trapped, and he had no way of knowing whether she was dead or alive. Then, inspiration struck. He remembered the diary Judeau took, and its twin was on the table. He opened it up, and found Casca's familiar writing, sometimes a messy scrawl, other times, its usual rather pragmatic script. She bared her heart to him, not knowing whether he was still alive…and she wrote of what happened.

He cursed Griffith, snarled and roared, before he finally calmed, and read. So, the Holy See finally made their move, had they? He looked at the stasis rune on the stone, and with an amateur eye, roughly estimated how long he'd be trapped. Thankfully, it wouldn't be for eternity. Unfortunately, he didn't think meddling any further with a runaway reaction was at all wise.

So he got to writing. Though a minute in here was likely to be several hours out there…

* * *

It was agony to wait as every letter crawled at an infinitesimal pace, and Casca felt that riding and commanding only proved to be minor distractions. As they made camp the next time, she opened up the diary, and found that he had added to the missive.

 _Runes in runaway cascade. Will be freed eventually. But not for eleven months. Sorry. Will be eleven hours for me. Stay alive, Cas_.

Casca chuckled ruefully. "Easy for you to say." She'd told Judeau and Rickert about it, but none of the others. There might be either false hope or resentment. Eleven months…a long time to wait when you were being pursued.

* * *

Eleven months did pass, spent in agony for both Harry and Casca. The agony was great for Harry because it meant eleven hours (not counting the time spent unconscious and coming to grips with the situation) confined to a relatively small place, unable to help Casca. The agony for Casca was even worse, given that it was eleven months on the run, harassed and harried by the King's hired swords.

Eventually, Harry knew the time had come, and he prepared himself for battle. He didn't know it, but the Holy Iron Chain Knights were waiting for him…

* * *

Harry watched as the field began to be less distorted, the time fields once more coming into sync, the stasis effect loosening. He could now make out figures rather than blurs, and he could see one figure in particular watching him intensely. She was familiar, and it took him a moment to realise why. And he groaned when he realised he had seen that particular blonde hair with twin ponytails before. Farnese de Vandimion.

And then, the stasis field collapsed, leaving Harry in a field with the Holy Iron Chain Knights, a couple of dozen of them at this moment. Farnese and that blonde boy Serpico, who happened to be nearby at this point, looked surprised when it did. They'd probably been expecting this, true, but not for it to happen right now.

Harry decided to take advantage of this by smiling winningly in his best imitation of Tom Baker, complete with boggling eyes(1), and said, "Hello there! My name is Harry Potter, you are Farnese de Vandimion, you are Serpico, and I presume that these are the Drafted Rich Kid Knights(2)."

Farnese's mouth, which was already open slightly in surprise, was now just gaping in absolute shock. Serpico, who seemed to have a perpetual squint, had opened his eyes wide, blinking. A few hastily stifled snorts and giggles broke the two out of their shock, and Farnese whirled and favoured them with a glare. Serpico, after a moment, cleared his throat. "My lady?"

Farnese turned back to Harry, giving Serpico a brief nod of thanks for bringing her attention back to the matter at hand. She then cleared her own throat. "We are the Holy Iron Chain Knights, and we have been ordered to take you into custody, to answer charges of heresy and assisting the traitor Griffith and the outlaw group known as the Band of the Hawk through witchcraft."

"Okay, can I point something out?" Harry asked. "I mean, I'd ask where your proof is, but you seem like a bunch of rabid religious fanatics who think proof is for other people." Quietly, to himself, he said, "Been there, done that, bought the T-shirt…well, without the religious fanaticism part. Wouldn't be surprised if the likes of Umbridge or Fudge were rabid. Anyway, the point I'm trying to make is…EXPELLIARMUS!"

A wave of magic blasted out from Harry, and almost all of those present were flung backwards, their weapons landing at his feet. "…I've been holding back, really. Most of what I did in the Band of the Hawk, combat-wise, was done without magic," he said to Farnese and Serpico as they picked themselves off the ground. With a gesture, the weapons rose into the air, hovering in front of Harry, between him and the Holy Iron Chain Knights. "Now…I'll put it to you bluntly. You have NOT brought enough people to deal with me. I've got your weapons, a lot of magic, and a very bad mood, due to being kept in stasis for a year. What have you got?"

"Faith and numbers!" Farnese said arrogantly, though fear clearly danced in her eyes.

"Which mean bugger all," Harry said. "You know what grapeshot is, right? Imagine all these weapons being grapeshot. You're all young, too young to be playing warriors for your god, who's probably an arsehole." He noticed that Serpico was inching closer to Farnese in a protective gesture. "And I don't like killing, not unless you yourselves are unrepentant killers. And for the record, I think that Griffith was a moron to go and fuck Princess Charlotte without the King's consent. But don't meddle in the affairs of wizards, for we are subtle and quick to anger, only, I'm not actually subtle. So, do yourselves a favour, and piss off, or I will…"

But then, he was cut off when an arrow came speeding towards him, followed by more. He moved the swords and weapons to intercept the volley, with Serpico all but dragging Farnese out of the line of fire. He sighed. "…Do _this_ ," he groaned. And then, he acted.

The swords and lances and the like flew through the air like a blizzard of metal death. The sensible ones flung themselves to the ground, including Farnese and Serpico. Soon, about half the Holy Iron Chain Knights present were dead, and a few others were injured. For good measure, he fired Stunners at the remaining ones, until only Farnese and Serpico were left, the latter interposing himself between Harry and Farnese. "What did you do?" he demanded, his eyes now open in a frankly impressive glare, managing a Snape on the glare scale.

"I knocked the survivors out. Be thankful that I warned you. Personally, I really should kill you. Your little group of fanatics are more trouble than they're worth. But I have literally better things to do." Serpico's head snapped back when the Stunner hit him, causing him to fall backwards.

Farnese, however, was staring at Harry, her anger and outrage dwarfed by fear…and perhaps a little awe. "…What are you?" she whispered.

"I'm Harry Potter. I used to be the Boy Who Lived. I've faced down an immortal warlock, a dragon, and Nosferatu Zodd," Harry said. "Do you understand? I'm an army unto myself. I may not be invincible, or invulnerable, but frankly, do you want some advice for dealing with me in future?" He knelt down in front of her, weariness on his face, before whispering to her, "Stay the fuck out of my way. Because otherwise, I will send you to your god, who, as I said, is probably an arsehole." A strobe of red light, and Farnese was unconscious once more.

With a weary sigh, he packed up the table, and then took as many of their weapons as he could. He was sure that the Band of the Hawk would find them useful, and he still had his mokeskin pouch. "Hang on, Cas," he muttered. "I'm coming…"

* * *

When he Apparated to the area he thought was close to Casca, he nearly got decapitated by a startled Kushan. Only by Apparating to a nearby rock did he avoid that. "Fuck, what's your problem?!" he yelped, noting that he wasn't far from a campground that was being attacked, by Kushans and other soldiers.

The dark-skinned Kushan frowned at him from behind the veil covering his mouth. He wore what should have been gear better suited to the desert, his cold, green eyes regarding Harry. Harry sent an Expelliarmus at the man just as he charged, and his blades, along with chakrams, were sent everywhere. The man sprawled onto the ground, but hopped up swiftly. "So…the rumours are indeed true, that the Band of the Hawk was assisted by a sorcerer."

"I'm a wizard. Harry Potter at your service, especially if you decide to leave."

"I will have to decline. I am Silat, of the Bakiraka clan," the man said.

Harry frowned. Not so long ago, shortly before Guts left, he and Casca were discussing events elsewhere. This included the Kushan Empire, and some of its more infamous denizens. "An exiled clan of Kushan assassins," he muttered. "The King hired you, didn't he? I didn't think he'd go for Kushans. I guess when he's got a grudge against us because of the stupidity of our leader, he doesn't care. I'll put it to you this way. He hasn't paid you enough to deal with me, because I'm tired of killers trying to give us grief. How much would it cost me to hire your services away from the King?"

"Sadly for you, more than you'd be able to afford," Silat said, picking up one of his blades.

Harry fished out a golden coin from his clothes, enchanting it with a Portkey spell. Wordlessly, he tossed it at Silat, who didn't make to catch it, instead blocking it with his weapon. The moment it made contact, however, he disappeared. Harry had sent him back to the very field the Holy Iron Chain Knights were.

He then strode onto the campground, his lance at the ready. He saw the various Kushans and mercenaries who looked to be hired closer to home, attacking the Band of the Hawk. A cheer went up from the Band of the Hawk. "He's back!" he heard what had to be Rickert. He saw Casca, looking bedraggled and weary, and their eyes met. A brief smile touched both of their lips, before Harry returned his gaze to the opposing soldiers, who had paused their fighting briefly to look at the newcomer.

"Hello," Harry called out. "My name is Harry Potter. I'm a wizard, and also pretty fucking annoyed. If you don't want to see how annoyed I am, then…" An arrow came at him, and he sighed as he blocked it. "… _Don't_ _ **do**_ _that_. What is wrong with you people? Kushans, I just sent your leader quite a way…" After a moment, he pointed behind him. "That way. If you value him, I suggest you hurry up and get him. Otherwise…"

And then, suddenly, a Kushan charged at him with whip-like blades. Harry blew his head off with a Cutting Curse, blood and brain matter going everywhere. "Stop fucking interrupting me! I am in a VERY bad mood!"

"Well then," came a voice from next to him, a familiar and, frankly, welcome voice. "Do you mind if **_I_** cut in?"

Harry realised that standing next to him was Guts, still with that damned sword of his. "You know what, Guts? I'd love that."

The battle, by that point, was rather swift to conclude. Harry was no longer holding back his magic, and Guts was a force of nature unto himself. But as the soldiers cheered them both, Harry had eyes only for one. He ran over to Casca, and embraced her. "…You okay, Cas?"

"…Not really. But I feel better now that you're here…"

And this was a sentiment shared by the rest of the Band of the Hawk, given the cheer that went up. As much of the Band of the Hawk surrounded Guts, Harry and Casca were left, embracing, alone. And perhaps that was for the best…

 **CHAPTER 15 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **So, Harry's broken out, and met a few people who will become very important to him in the future.**

 **Anyway, I dunno when the next chapter will be out, but I hope you enjoy this one all the same. I'm actually getting a hold of the first** ** _Berserk_** **omnibus soon, thanks to a pre-order. So maybe you** ** _Berserk_** **fans might see more crossovers from me.**

 **1\. Tom Baker, is of course, the actor who played the Fourth Doctor in** ** _Doctor Who_** **, and Harry's dialogue is based a little on a bit of dialogue the Doctor says in** ** _City of Death_** **. Incidentally, Tom Baker recently co-wrote a novelisation of an unmade script he co-wrote,** ** _Doctor Who: Scratchman_** **. I finished reading it very recently as of writing this, and the novel is actually good, significantly better than the synopsis of the screenplay it was based on…**

 **2\. This comes from the trailer of Hawk Abridging's** ** _Berserk: The Abridged Series_** **, where this is EXACTLY what Farnese calls the Holy Iron Chain Knights.**


	21. Chapter 16: Recriminations

**CHAPTER 16:**

 **RECRIMINATION, RECONCILIATION, AND RESOLUTION**

After the initial part of the celebration, Harry and Casca left the camp, with most of the Band of the Hawk clustered around Guts. From what little Harry had managed to get out of the stoic swordsman, he'd only learned about the Band of the Hawk's plight relatively recently, given how far he was out of the way at Godo's smithy. The moment he heard, he came running.

As far as Casca was concerned, it was a bit late for that. She was venting about Guts and Griffith to Harry, pacing angrily in an area of the forest near a magnificent waterfall. Harry let her vent, until finally, she was finished. "…Are you done, Casca?"

"…For now. I'm still gonna punch Guts in his guts a few times at the very least. He owes me that much. As for Griffith…from what little we've heard, he's been taken to the Tower of Rebirth." She scowled at the name. "For all that he caused this by bedding Charlotte…he deserved nothing like what he must be going through. It's said that the King is keeping him alive for as long as possible while torturing him, from our only sources left in Windham. We can't leave him there."

"…Can't we, Cas?" Harry asked quietly. When she looked at him in shock, he said, "Remember what he did. Killing off the Queen and her co-conspirators, having me kill Earl Julius…and you saw the way he acted when Guts wanted to leave. He may have cared about us once upon a time, Cas. I'm not convinced he does anymore."

"…Do you really think he deserves such torture?"

Harry shook his head. "Of course not. But…do we want to risk our lives for someone who put our own in jeopardy because he decided to fuck Charlotte? How many of us died because he couldn't think straight? That he put his own desires before that of the men under his command? Guts, for all his faults, would never have done such a thing. Well, these days, anyway. And you…Cas, you're a much better leader than Griffith was. You kept the Band of the Hawk alive while the three of us were gone. I dunno whether I could have done that. Is rescuing Griffith worth it?"

Casca turned away from him. Eventually, she said, "He's our friend. Guts would agree with me, as much as I don't like him at the moment. Harry, I owe Griffith much. You know this. He's shown his trust in me. And I understand where you're coming from. I hate what he did, I'm so angry I could…just _burst_. But…I can't stand the thought of him still being alive and being tortured like he is. We need your help. Your magic can help us get in, and get out. Portkeys can help us escape and put more distance between us and the Tower of Rebirth. _Please_."

Harry thought she was nuts. True, Griffith hadn't done anything to deserve a year's worth of torture, but because of his stupidity, people had died, and Casca had had to lead their allies and try to survive whatever mercenaries and assassins were sent their way. And he reckoned that Griffith, if the tables had turned, would have left them to rot.

But he knew how much Griffith meant to Casca. And she was right, Guts would probably agree. So would most of the rest of the Band of the Hawk, frankly. Harry would be pissing against the wind if he spoke out against such a rescue mission.

"…Fine," he finally conceded. "But I still don't think it's a good idea."

"Noted." She shook her head, before turning back to him, her features softening. Even with the haggardness from spending so long on the run, she was still utterly beautiful. Softly, she murmured, "I missed you, Harry. When that damn arrow struck and you were stuck, I could only think of those arguments and how it was the last thing I said to you, and how I may never get another chance to tell you how much I really love you, and then…"

Harry just moved over, embracing her, cutting off her almost hysterical flow of words. "…Cas. I'm here now," he said softly.

He knew she wouldn't show such weakness in front of anyone but him. She usually expressed her worry as anger in front of others. To him, and him alone, she showed this weakness. Not that he considered it weakness, though she might. Rather, he thought it made her more human, more than just a warrior woman.

She wept quietly into his shoulder. "…I thought you were dead, or trapped forever," she said. "A month went by before I had any confirmation you were still alive. If you didn't have those diaries…I'm not sure how long I would have lasted."

"Cas…you're stronger than you think. Much stronger. You held the Band of the Hawk together for a year while on the run. I can't imagine what you had to do to get food and weapons and other things. You're the strongest woman it has been my privilege of ever knowing, and believe me, I've known some strong women in my time. And it isn't just your physical strength, but your strength of will and heart." He poked her in her chestplate, between her breasts. "They call you Big Sis Casca, remember? Do you think they call you that because they hate you? They love you, maybe not the way I do, but they love you all the same. Griffith may inspire loyalty because he leads them to glory…but you keep them alive."

The smile on her face as she looked up at him was worth any treasure in the world. She was a beautiful woman, true, physically, but it was a hard beauty from her attitude as a warrior, as well as her need to be a commander. But Casca's beauty also came from within. For all her anger and belligerence at times, she was a compassionate and passionate young woman. He'd been privileged to be privy to that beauty, he felt, since he met her in her dreams.

Griffith had at least been good for something. Casca had a dull, hard life before the noble's attempt to rape her, and Griffith, in saving her, had ignited a fire in her, a fire that she kept burning to this day. It was what took her to the next level. It was what made her into the woman he loved.

"…Thanks, Harry," she said, wiping away the tears. "…It's been hard, keeping them together. While many remain loyal, we've had more than a few desertions, on top of the deaths. But…you didn't come with me to hear me vent. So…sorry about that."

"…You've had a lot on your mind. I had the easy time of it, trapped only for hours. We're good, aren't we?"

"You mean about the argument we had before…of course we're good, Harry!"

* * *

They spoke and talk and discussed for a while longer. Then, the pair decided to take advantage of their isolation for now. In the forest, they made love, over a period of several hours. Their first session was frantic, hasty, born from pent-up emotion and need, especially on Casca's part. It had been a year for her, after all. The sessions after that…well, they were considerably more enjoyable and relaxing. In his haste to be with her, Harry actually forgot to use a Contraceptive Charm, something he didn't realise until much later.

Afterwards, after a quick, post-coital doze, Harry noted the new scars Casca had gained on her body, souvenirs of the pursuit of the Band of the Hawk. "…So many," he murmured. "Did they hurt?"

"They were bearable. I've suffered more from being separated from you," Casca said quietly. "I am no stranger to wounds to my body. Wounds to my heart are rather more new. Well, something so severe, anyway. You know, you're probably one of the few people not to consider my scars ugly."

"Scars are ugly. But they are also part of who we are. I heard once they tell the story of our lives, remind us of what happened to us. Hell, most people only knew of me because of this damned scar." He tapped the one on his forehead. "I'd be a hypocrite if I hated you over a few scars."

"Hmm. Yes. Every scar does tell a story. I asked Guts about that one he has across his nose once. Apparently that came about when Gambino trained him…when he was still just a kid. No wonder he finds it hard to socialise. He was raised by a mercenary who treated him as a meal ticket at best. At least Rickert gets treated like family as well as a comrade," Casca said, getting to her feet. "I'm still angry at Guts…but I know why he did it. Why he left us. I just didn't want to believe it."

A brief clearing of a throat, and Casca and Harry whirled to find Guts present. "…Sorry," he said, a little shamefaced. "I didn't realise you two were still undressed."

Harry and Casca blushed up a storm, before they hurriedly pulled on their undergarments at least. Then, Casca went over to Guts…and punched him, hard, in the guts. As he gagged in surprise, she said, "Consider that a down payment. Do you think in the future you could arrive _before_ the nick of time?"

"…Gakk…couldn't…didn't know…the Hawk…was in trouble," Guts choked out, before he got his spasming lungs back in order. Panting, he gave a rather sardonic smile. "…Well, you're still as strong as ever…and as ornery."

"…Since when did you know the word ornery?" Casca asked, most of her initial anger gone in both surprise and after punching him.

"I know plenty of words, and besides, having to talk with those damned nobles…" Guts sighed. "I did miss you two. I didn't realise what had happened. Judeau and Rickert were filling me in on the details. And I think I can guess what you want to do next. I'm in. Griffith and I had our issues, but…I'm not gonna leave him to rot in the Tower of Rebirth."

Casca seemed surprised at how readily he agreed, but she nodded. "Good. Let's face it, with both of you back, morale's at its highest point since Griffith was imprisoned. This is the best time to begin planning to get him out of there. Plus, between your fighting ability and Harry's magic, we have a much better chance of succeeding."

"Theoretically," Harry said. "We need to find a way to infiltrate this place, and I know sod-all about the Tower of Rebirth, only that it'd probably rank a little below Azkaban in terms of…hey, is it getting cold?"

Indeed, it was. A mist was filling the forest where they were talking, and distantly, they heard the ominous clopping of hooves. Slow, meaning that whoever was approaching on horseback was doing so slowly. But there was something darkly familiar to Harry and Casca. And a familiar outline on horseback appeared from out of the mist, with glowing eyes.

"…Is that him again?" Harry asked warily.

As Casca nodded, Guts frowned, his sword at the ready. "You know this…guy? Wait, is this the Skull Knight you guys met?"

" ** _I met these two but once before_** ," the Skull Knight said, his deep, dark voice flanging strangely. " ** _I offer you the same warning as I did these two, Struggler. Events are moving towards their destined conclusion, a bloody deluge of death and destruction comes your way. But heed my words, and struggle, endure, and contend, you who are born from death itself._** "

And with that, the Skull Knight cantered away on his horse. Guts was disturbed, but Harry yelled, "Oi, don't be so ominous or enigmatic! Give us something more concrete than ' _Beware the coming darkness_ ' or bullshit like that! I hate vague prophecies and warnings!"

" ** _If you desire a more concrete warning, Wizard, then heed this: Beware the Eclipse. Beware the Behelit. And beware the Godhand. It was the Godhand that imprisoned you, Wizard, so that you may not interfere with their plans. Remember that, for you are a stone thrown into a pond, and the ripples you make may interfere with other ripples of fate, for better or for worse._** " And with that, the Skull Knight and his steed vanished into the mist, which itself began to disperse.

"…If you intended to warn us, be more specific," Harry snarled in annoyance.

"What the hell was he talking about?" Guts asked, his own face furrowed in a frown of thought. "I remember Zodd saying something about the Godhand when he saw the Behelit. You know anything?"

Harry shook his head. "I turned up a few things here and there on the Behelits, but that's it. Nothing concrete. And Zodd hinted that when Griffith's dreams collapsed, we would all die." He looked at Casca with sudden apprehension. "Cas…"

"He was wrong," Casca said with a scowl. "Griffith's dreams may have collapsed, but the Band of the Hawk, while decimated, still lives. We're going to rescue him. I don't care about whether there's any truth to Zodd or this Skull Knight's ramblings or prophecy. We have free will. We make our own fate, our own destiny, even if we have to fight _every fucking_ _ **step**_ of the way to do it. And if something does happen…then we fight our way out of whatever hellhole we're dumped into, even if it's the depths of Hell itself. Are you with me?"

Guts merely nodded, though an admiring smirk touched his lips. Harry, meanwhile, said, "While I've said my piece about rescuing Griffith, I'm with you all the way. Just don't tempt fate, Cas. I don't want to _actually_ have to fight our way out of the depths of Hell…"

 **CHAPTER 16 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Yeah, Casca, you really don't want to tempt fate like that. Anyway, Cas and Harry have reconciled fully, despite Harry's objections to rescuing Griffith, they're making plans, and the Skull Knight is being ominous.**

 **Anyway, it's been a while since the last chapter, hasn't it? And yes, as usual, it'll be a while before the next one comes out.**

 **But aside from that, I did get the** ** _Berserk_** **omnibus I wanted…eventually. Instead of being released on the release date was when I first ordered it, it took until the end of May for me to finally get it. *sigh* I'm getting the second omnibus soon. Still, it shows that I did mess up the previous interlude a little, so I'm going to chalk down the changes to butterflies.**

 **No numbered annotations this time.**


	22. Chapter 17: Infiltration and Extraction

**CHAPTER 17:**

 **INFILTRATION AND EXTRACTION**

Harry grimaced as he emerged into the mausoleum. Casca was leading a small group of infiltrators that included himself, Guts, Pippin, and Judeau. Rickert was with the injured at one camp, while the Raiders and more mobile members like Corkus were preparing the extraction route. Harry wanted to use a Portkey, but unfortunately, given what Griffith's likely condition would be once they got to him, that had been vetoed.

They'd used a combination of Harry's spells, along with a hidden passageway in a graveyard. Harry remembered Guts snarking that if such a passageway was so easy to find, he'd retire from being a merc. Both Judeau and Harry had promptly snarked back at him that he should retire when Casca found it soon after he said it.

Harry thought that this was a fool's errand. Griffith had brought this on himself, and the Band of the Hawk had copped the damage from it. It was only because Casca and Guts, to say nothing of the rest of the Band of the Hawk, wanted this that he was playing along. But only under protest.

Harry soon noticed a pair of cloaked and hooded figures gliding out of the shadows. "Are these the contacts you mentioned?" Harry asked Casca quietly, as Guts tensed.

Casca nodded. One of the hooded figures came forward, and in a familiar voice, asked, "…Are you with the Band of the Hawk?"

"What's left of them," Casca said. "Of all the people to be our man on the inside…it'd be you, Princess Charlotte. Forgive my lack of social graces, Your Highness, but time is of the essence. I must thank you for your devotion and efforts that have seen us come to this point."

Charlotte smiled, even as she removed her hood. "I thank you, Lady Casca. I remember, at the time you set out for Doldrey, I hadn't realised you were a woman at the time. It was only at the ball I realised my mistake. My apologies. But you are right, we don't have much time. This way, please."

As they made their way through the castle complex from the mausoleum, Harry asked, "I know this is probably a stupid question, but…do you know why your father has it in for us?"

"…I do," she said, shuddering. "Lord Griffith…he came to my room one rainy night, and…well, I'm sure you already can guess what happened. But what you didn't know is that afterwards, after Griffith was imprisoned, my father, he…he…"

"Your Highness, do not speak of such things to these fugitives," the other woman, presumably one of her handmaids, said. "Your father is…"

"…A sick man," Charlotte said. "You know why I am afraid of him, why I do not wish to see him, Anna."

"…He tried to bed you," Harry hissed in horror, provoking gasps from the others. His horror surged upwards, bringing with it fury and hatred. He'd already hated the King of Midland for attacking the Band of the Hawk for Griffith's actions, forcing his lover and their comrades to go on the run. "Shit, Charlotte, I'm sorry I asked you the question!"

"…No, it's fine," Charlotte said quietly, not denying what happened. "I only met you in passing, Harry Potter, and you have that reputation of being a warlock. And yet…I did not see that when I saw you. You just seemed so tired, weary, full of pain for someone so young, not charming. You asked me a question. I chose to answer it, because…it was not..."

Harry, after a moment, had the princess halt…and then gently hugged her. "I'm sorry…I'm so sorry. I thought your father was a good man until what Griffith did. Now…"

"…Thank you, Harry Potter…"

* * *

The spells came in handy when they avoided guards, with Harry casting them on Charlotte and Anna. However, he felt his anger towards the king growing. He dared tried to bed his own daughter? Judeau explained how that could be the case: oddly enough, Charlotte had never been engaged to anyone, and she would have been engaged some years ago, due to the medieval way they arranged marriages amongst the upper classes.

They soon reached the Tower of Rebirth, an ancient tower whose underground facilities were used as a prison. It was then that Judeau suggested taking her as a hostage. Even Charlotte seemed to agree, with Casca pointing out reasonable reasons for not doing so. However, Charlotte refused to leave, and Harry, privately, thought it was a good thing.

As they descended the spiral staircase down into the Tower of Rebirth's depths, Harry explained his reasoning to Casca. "Griffith's reputation, and that of the Band of the Hawk, is shot to hell already. Of course, most important is not leaving this poor girl with that monster of a father, one who wants to bed her."

"…I understand, but…if we do do that…"

"Cas…leave it to me. I've already got a plan in mind. But…it might mean I'll have to catch up with you guys later."

"What do you mean?"

"…The King might pursue us to the end of the earth if we leave with Charlotte…but, if she died, killed by one of his own men while helping Griffith escape…well…let's say that if he believes that, the heat might be taken off us, and off her."

"…You're going to use magic on him, aren't you?"

"He deserves it. Griffith didn't deserve what the King put him through, and Charlotte shouldn't have to live in fear of her own father."

Before Casca could raise an objection, they heard Charlotte squeak in fear after she peered through a prison door, only for a deformed inmate to lash out at her. Guts soon picked her up, and they descended further to the bottom. Along the way, she began relating the tale of King Gaiseric, the warlord who united the disparate warring lands into an empire, with what became Midland at the centre. When she described Gaiseric's habit of wearing a skull-shaped helmet into battle, though, Harry, Casca and Guts exchanged meaningful looks, something Judeau noticed.

"…Why are you looking so spooked?" Judeau asked.

"The Skull Knight, the entity we met before Doldrey," Casca said. Judeau was one of the few people she had told, albeit after the Band of the Hawk's downfall. "Something tells me it's no coincidence."

"Skull Knight?" Charlotte asked.

"Long story," Guts said. "Short version? He wears skeletal-looking armour. I don't think he's human, or if he was, he hasn't been for a long time. Kept on giving us weird warnings. Nosferatu Zodd seemed to know him if what these two said is anything to go by."

Judeau frowned. "There's probably more to it than that. Gaiseric's reign probably inspired the tale of the Skull King. Supposedly, a greedy king of an empire conscripted workers from across the world to create a vast, shining metropolis. He levied heavy taxes on the populace, and his city became a den of debauchery and gluttony. So much so that God took offence, and a quintet of angels descended, laying waste to the city in a single night."

"The version I heard had a quartet of angels," Casca mused.

"The myth has some truth to it, given what my history tutor said to me," Charlotte said. "That city was indeed in what became Midland, and it was destroyed by some great natural calamity, much of it buried deep beneath the surface. Expeditions have been made to its deepest levels, but none have made it back alive."

"…That's ominous," Harry muttered. "…Cas…I hope we find Griffith's cell soon. Because I don't want to find it's near the bottom, and I don't want to disturb whatever lurks down there. Knowing our luck, it's probably a Balrog."

"Don't joke about such things, Harry," Casca groaned. She had read Harry's copy of _The Lord of the Rings_ , and the Balrog was not something she wanted to meet…

* * *

Guts and Harry thought they heard someone following them, but couldn't see anything in the darkness. They soon found the cell where Griffith was, and opened it, only to find a pale, emaciated form sprawled on the floor, swathed in bandages. A helmet, a mockery of his hawk-like helmet from the Band of the Hawk, encased his head.

Harry, Judeau, Guts and Casca were on the figure in a flash. For all Harry's anger against Griffith, he did not want anything like this to happen, and he was soon casting a Diagnostic Charm on the wasted body. He soon wished he hadn't. "Shit," he hissed as the results were displayed. "His tongue and his genitals have been removed, along with parts of his skin…his tendons have been severed…malnutrition…I'm amazed he's still alive..."

Casca soon unlocked the helmet, but they soon regretted it. All four of them gasped. While Griffith's eyelids, lips and nose remained intact, it was clear patches of skin had been torn away, and his ears had been removed. His hair was matted where it hadn't been torn out in clumps. He looked like he had been turned into some sort of zombie. "Griffith…" Guts hissed.

Charlotte made to come forward, but Casca said, in a low voice, "…Charlotte, if you value your sanity, don't come any closer." She then replaced the helmet.

The clicking of it locking back into place seemed to revive Griffith, whose bloodshot eyes opened. When he saw Guts, Harry noticed that his eyes widened in surprise…before they became intense. A hand grasped weakly at Guts' throat, but as Harry watched Guts embrace his emaciated former commander, weeping, Griffith seemed to relax.

But Harry knew that Griffith had wanted to strangle Guts for a moment, even if Guts or Casca didn't notice. Maybe he regretted that decision the moment he saw how Guts acted, but Harry knew that was not an attempt at an embrace, but an attack.

The door suddenly slammed shut, and malevolent chuckling echoed from the door. A squat man with a porcine nose and what looked like a hare lip cackled, causing Charlotte and Anna to yelp in fright. "Don't be afraid, Your Highnesshe. You'll hurt my feelingsh. I'm the gaoler, and you guysh can't get away. I've locked the door, called the sholdiersh, and sho, you'd better give up. Maybe I'll have you ash my new playthingsh? Hish Majeshty will be pleashed that I caught you bashtardsh and shtopped the Prinshessh from doing shomething foolish."

"Hey…" Guts said. "You're the one who did all of this to Griffith, right?"

"Sho what if I did? Getting pished off won't do you any good. Thish door ish four timesh ash thick ash other doorsh. Beshidesh…Hish Majeshty shaid I could do whatever I wanted to him. Sho I did."

"That's all I needed to hear," Harry said, getting to his feet, though he noted the man's gleefully sadistic demeanour, like a distillation of the worst traits of Pettigrew and Bellatrix. "But you see, every door has a magic word that allows people to open it."

"What? Open Sheshame?" sneered the gaoler.

"No. _Alohamora_."

There was a click, and Harry was on the door in a flash, smashing it outward, and sending the diminutive torturer sprawling, partly hanging over the edge of the staircase. "NO! SHPARE ME!" the gaoler squealed. "PLEASHE, SHPARE ME!"

"…Is that what your victims asked you?" Harry asked coldly, before casting a Levitation Charm, and flying him out, though not before grabbing a desiccated tongue from where it hung on a leather thong around the hideous man's neck. "Two questions. Is this Griffith's tongue?"

"YESH! IT ISH! I SHWEAR TO GOD!"

"SWEAR TO ME!" Harry roared, before calming himself with an effort. "And final question: do you know how far this place goes down? Well…you're about to find out." He cancelled the charm, and the gaoler fell into the stygian depths below with a scream that went on for a long, long time…

* * *

Of course, it wasn't so simple. A group of thirty soldiers with crossbows intercepted them, but Guts dealt with them handily. Guts then attacked a group of soldiers who had been waiting outside, only to be confronted by more. However, the soldiers were halted by the King.

But when Harry heard the old man's voice, coming from a balcony, berating his soldiers for nearly hitting Charlotte, he Apparated up to the balcony in a fury. For a moment, the now white-haired King's decrepit appearance, so different from his vital looks a mere year before, filled Harry with pity. And then, he remembered what the old man had done to Griffith, to Charlotte, and pity gave way to cold wrath.

"You…the wizard working with Griffith!" the King hissed, supporting himself on a page.

"Me…now, to be honest, you being angry with Griffith, I can understand," Harry said, causing a _Protego_ to appear as a hail of crossbow bolts spat towards him from the bowmen flanking the King. "But torturing him for a year, coming after my friends and comrades, and _what you want to do to_ _ **your own daughter!**_ " Harry tried to calm himself again, before he fixed the King with a glare. "I'd say that was an overreaction."

"An overreaction?! You filthy peasant! I am the King!"

"…You're a loony."

"…How dare you say that to me?!"

"…Yes. I **_dare_**." If Harry could see himself, he would have seen a verdant aura purling around himself as his magic went into overdrive from his sheer fury. "I am Harry Potter. I am a wizard, one who stopped a warlock with delusions of grandeur. You, Your Majesty, are little more than an incestuous monster."

"Don't listen to him!" the King screeched. "Just kill him! Kill him! Guards! Guards!"

" _Obliviate_ ," Harry intoned. But his quiet, coldly furious voice was accompanied by a blast of power that struck the King, his soldiers, and everyone else in the vicinity. He then gave a cruel smile as he added a compulsion to his words. "You all will remain here for three hours. You will then remember that you received reports that the Band of the Hawk were set upon by brigands, and they were killed to a man, including Griffith, along with Princess Charlotte and Anne. Any other people reporting that we escaped are delusional. You caused your daughter to flee because you tried to rape her. You will not kill yourself, Your Majesty. Instead, live with the knowledge that you forced your own flesh and blood to flee from you, and in doing so, run into the arms of her death. The Band of the Hawk is no more, and even if another mercenary band comes along with that name, it will be something new. All that is left to you is the knowledge that you, far from being a king, are just a selfish, incestuous _monster_."

That done, he Apparated back down, ready to rejoin the others as they fled Windham. While he had some pity for the man, he had no sympathy for him at all. This man had ordered their deaths, based on Griffith's idiocy. He had tried to molest his own daughter. However, Harry knew this was a dangerous gambit that could backfire. He only hoped that it would pay off…

 **CHAPTER 17 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Well, it's been a while, huh? Part of the reason is that I've only now caught up to where I'm supposed to go in the manga, having only recently obtained and read the third and fourth omnibus editions. And I have to say, I noticed differences between canon and what I've done here. Part of that is due to relying on** ** _Harry Potter and the Berserker_** **as well as the Golden Age films and the TV series (the 90s one) as source material. So let's talk some differences as well as story choices.**

 **Firstly, and most importantly, Casca's characterisation. I think her being Harry's imaginary friend, as well as being his friend from the start of his time in the Band of the Hawk, has actually strengthened Casca somewhat. I've noticed, especially from just after the Adon incident, that Casca shows signs of being too dependent on Griffith and Guts. I have to admit, I don't like it, as I'm sure this dependency on Griffith is partly what led to her mind breaking during the Eclipse, given what happens. True, Casca is dependent on Harry, but I think she's stronger for it because Harry acknowledges her strengths and weaknesses more than either Guts or Griffith, and accepts her for them. She also has a much healthier relationship with Harry than she does with Guts or Griffith. It probably helps that Harry isn't judgemental of her for being a female warrior, whereas Guts is, admittedly, more chauvinistic, at least at first, while Griffith views her as a useful tool.**

 **When I started writing this fic, I thought it was mostly being able to retreat through the soul bond that allowed Casca to stay sane when Femto rapes her. In truth, and given the way this has diverged slightly but significantly from** ** _Berserk_** **canon, I've noticed she seems to be becoming psychologically stronger than her canon counterpart, which probably was as great a factor as the soul bond, without losing the essentials of her characterisation. This seems to be more from serendipity than anything truly planned. Anyway, I think this story gives Casca a better chance than she had in canon.**

 **Now, to Harry punishing the King. I wrote earlier that Charlotte ended up hiding with Godo, Rickert and Erica, but I needed to justify that somehow. Hence this. Harry has at least caused confusion amongst the pursuers, so no Bakiraka, and no Wyald and his Black Dog Knights…yet. Don't worry, Wyald will get his just desserts.**

 **Charlotte admitting, albeit obliquely, what her father did to her, may seem OOC, but there were a few reasons for that. Firstly, she does allude to the event very obliquely in the manga. Secondly, she never states it outright, though I doubt anyone but Harry or Casca would have gotten it. Guts may have gone through a similar experience, but he's also a bit dense when it comes to social graces. Harry, however, comes from a modern society where such incidents make the news, while Casca nearly was raped herself as a girl. Harry's lack of judgement on the whole thing, along with the reactions of the others, reassure Charlotte. Harry, being the protective guy he is, does this to protect both the Band of the Hawk and Charlotte, in order to allow them to get away. Charlotte's stronger than she looks, really, for such a demure young lady, though I can't blame her for wanting to escape with the Band of the Hawk. Thanks to Harry's magic, she does so, with this being one of the factors which overtax him and prevent him from being able to help during the Eclipse initially.**

 **Anyway, hopefully, the next chapters will come out more rapidly. Hell, maybe this fic will be finished this year. I've started watching the latest** ** _Berserk_** **adaptation, and variable quality CGI aside, I like the story. Though Nina getting spanked by Luca was pretty cringe-inducing. Plus, she deserves more than a mere spanking. If I write a sequel set during that arc, Nina's going to have a bad time. Luca, however, is as awesome as a relatively normal person can be in** ** _Berserk_** **. And then, there's the sheer awesome of** ** _Hai Yo_** **and** ** _Ash Crow_** **.**

 **No numbered annotations this time.**


	23. Chapter 18: The Eclipse

**CHAPTER 18:**

 **THE ECLIPSE**

They soon rendezvoused with the other elements of the Band of the Hawk, or at least those who had been sent to secure the escape route, in case of pursuers. Corkus looked disappointed that he didn't get to crush any pursuers, but so far, so good. They would rendezvous with the rest of them, where Rickert had been left.

Harry stayed in the wagon with Griffith, Charlotte, and Anna, healing the emaciated man as best as he could. He'd managed to get the skin to grow, and the tongue and tendons were regenerated thanks to a combination of his magic and a healing potion. But Harry's magic could only do so much, and it couldn't help get rid of muscle wastage and malnutrition. At best, Griffith would need to undergo months if not years of rehabilitation.

Still, Harry couldn't help but feel sheer fury and anger at Griffith. True, he didn't deserve this by any means, not this much. But his stupidity had caused so many deaths. Harry couldn't talk given his own impetuousness had caused Sirius' death, amongst other things, but Griffith should have known better.

Guts had asked him, while they were in transit, to start making a number of Portkeys. Specifically to where Godo's workshop was. Harry hadn't been there, so he needed to do some estimates based on a map Guts showed him and some annoyingly fiddly Arithmantic equations. They'd halted for a moment when Anna wanted Charlotte to get out and get some air instead of fussing over the supine Griffith, who had been unconscious soon after Harry used his magic on him.

Even now, Harry knew he was reaching a state of magical exhaustion. The Memory Charm against the King and his underlings, the stealth charms, and particularly the healing that went into Griffith, all contributed to this state. And he knew that if he didn't get some rest soon, he'd be useless for Casca, Guts, and the others.

Harry heard Griffith's breath quickening, and knew the former leader of the Band of the Hawk was waking up. "…You…you saved…" he rasped.

"Save it," Harry said quietly, casting a Privacy Charm. "I did it because Casca wanted me to, because Guts wanted me to, because the people you led, the people _you abandoned_ because of your poor decisions, wanted me to. You didn't deserve a year's worth of torture at the hands of that monster…but what you did was stupid and unbefitting of being our commander. What, all because you were sore that Guts decided to take his destiny into his own hands? Because he took your definition of what a friend is to heart?" Harry turned to Griffith, his former leader staring at him from behind his helmet. "You make me sick."

"…What?"

"We overheard your little spiel with Charlotte, that night you had me kill Julius," Harry said coldly. "And that is not what a friend is. A true friend is someone who will stand by your side, helping you, even if you don't think you want it, who will call you out on your shit. Friends support each other. They don't pave the way to their kingdom with their allies and comrades' bones. Casca is my friend. Guts is my friend. Judeau, Pippin, Rickert, Gaston…they're my friends. But you're not my friend. You will never be my friend. I don't think you can be anyone's friend. You don't have the capacity, at least not anymore. You don't care about anyone but yourself, and your dream of a kingdom. Well…I doubt you'll get your kingdom now, not unless you put it off for a few years. I've managed to heal a good chunk of what was done to you, but it'll be an ongoing process, and you'll need to undergo a lot of rehabilitation. Months, years…maybe you can still get your dream. But I'm through with this."

"…You can't…Casca…will choose…me…every time…"

Harry felt a surge of fury. "…This coming from the man who abandoned her to the King's hired killers? The man who knew she loved him, and yet used that to have her do his bidding? Casca may still give a damn about you, but her loyalty is not to you alone. It's to me, to Guts, to the men here. She kept them alive and sane during that year I was trapped, during that year they were on the run because of your stupidity! But…our lives are not just your own to spend as you see fit. Especially not now." Harry calmed himself with an effort, before he made to clamber out of the wagon. "You get one more chance, Griffith. My mentor was all about giving people second chances. But you're not our leader anymore. I will only follow Casca. I actually trust her. Not just as a leader, but as a friend. But you…you're not my friend. You never will be after what you put her through, what you put all of us through, all because you viewed Guts leaving like a breakup."

As Harry undid the Privacy Charm and left the wagon, he could hear quiet sobs coming from Griffith. Maybe he had gone too far, but Griffith had caused this. Guts may have triggered it by wanting to leave, but it was Griffith's decisions afterwards that caused it.

He swooned, only for Casca to catch him. "Are you all right?"

"…Yeah, just running on fumes," Harry said. On her blank look, he said, "I mean I'm tuckered out. I'm not sure how much more magic I can use. I can maybe create a few more Portkeys or use a few more spells, but…I'm tired, Casca, in more ways than one."

She nodded, helping him over to a wagon, where Judeau was waiting. "…You argued with him, didn't you?"

"Yeah. Cas…I'm so fucking angry with him for doing this to us. Bluntly…the only reason I'd stay in the Band of the Hawk is if you were leading it."

"…I understand," Casca said quietly. "I…I know I don't have Griffith's strategic mind, his charisma…but…"

"But you kept us together during our darkest hour, Casca," Judeau said with a sad smile. "Even after Guts left, Griffith was imprisoned, and Harry was trapped, you kept it together, far better than so many others would have. You kept us alive, and kept many of us from deserting too. Even with your own regrets and self-reproach eating you up inside…you stayed strong. In a way, that makes you better than Griffith. Because when Guts left, he couldn't stand it. But when Harry left, even when it was involuntary, you kept it together."

Casca looked down at her feet. "I know, but…what do we do? We lost our standing in Midland. I'm not convinced I want to work for Chuder or the Kushans. No way in Hell the Holy See would even let us rest, even if Harry's memory spell worked on the King."

"Actually, it may not be so bad," Judeau said. "The King, ever since Griffith's downfall and imprisonment, has been losing his popularity, to say nothing of his vigour. I doubt he'll be long for this world. Should he die, and we keep Charlotte safe for that long, Charlotte could assume the throne. Remember, Harry's spell only worked on a small group of his soldiers. If Charlotte wants to re-assume the throne…as long as we treat her well, she might be able to pardon us."

"Even with the Holy See after us?" Casca asked pointedly.

"That could be a problem, but not an insurmountable one. We'll play it by ear."

Harry nodded, but he swooned again, and Casca and Judeau caught him, and helped him into the wagon. "Rest for now, Harry," Casca said, with a sad smile.

Harry didn't resist the darkness of unconsciousness when it came to grasp him. Instead, he just fell into gentle slumber. He didn't know it, but the next few hours would change his life, and those of the people he cared about, forever…

* * *

 _He thought he was having a nightmare. He was in Casca's mind as she rode after Guts and Griffith, towards a lake with hundreds of misshapen figures wading through it, as the moon passed in front of the sun, and an eclipse occurred. An eldritch howl seemed to pierce the very air, and suddenly, where Casca was riding through a field towards a lake, they were now in a place that could very well have been Hell._

 _Faces comprised the landscape. The ground. The hills. The sky, save for where the eclipsed sun hung, like a baleful eye peering down at those trapped in this eldritch dimension._

 _It seemed to move like a dream too, with weird cuts and jumps, like a badly spliced film. He heard Casca admonishing Corkus and the others to calm down. He saw the beasts gathered on that hellish landscape calling for their angels. And then, he saw them arrive._

 _Spawned from one of the faces, an utterly beautiful woman, massive of stature, appeared, her long locks becoming tendrils, raven-like wings becoming bat-like. From the sky, a massive face with a constant rictus of delight, lenses instead of eyes, a bizarre imp with tentacles depending from its lower body. A cherubic, infantile face, mouth open in a yonic gape, on a body that looked like the shell of an insect, that grew out of another mound of faces. And a vast, cloaked figure, its exposed brain bulging, its eyes sewn up, the skin around its mouth flayed and pinned away, that seemed to melt out of a torrent of shadows._

 _He heard them greet Griffith as one of their own, as the latest of their destined brethren. He heard them speak of the truth of the Crimson Behelit, which was currently looking like a relatively normal face…albeit weeping gushing tears of blood. He watched as Griffith was borne aloft on a massive hand, Guts barely clinging onto the edge, while all around Casca and the other soldiers of the Band of the Hawk, ravenous monsters that were once human licked their chops, slavering in anticipation of a bloody feast to follow. They saw Void, the one with the massive, exposed brain, create a glowing symbol, like a pair of zig-zags with a line through the middle._

 _And then, after so long, they heard a soft whisper that seemed to echo in their very souls like a shout. A whisper of betrayal, from one they had worked so hard to save. A whisper in Griffith's voice. Two words. Four syllables. An infinity of treachery._

 _"_ _ **I sacrifice.**_ _"_

 _The hand clenched, presumably over Griffith. The symbol Void had summoned burst into sickly fireflies of unearthly and unholy light that branded copies of that sigil into every member of the Band of the Hawk. Harry had enough time to feel the burn into Casca's breast, before the pain woke him up…_

* * *

Harry woke with a gasp of pain and fright, sitting bolt upright. Charlotte and Anna were watching him. "What's the matter?!" Anna yelped.

"Cas…she's in trouble!" Harry hissed, scrambling out of the wagon. He stared at the eclipsed sun in the distance. "How long has it been like this?" he asked. "Where's Griffith? Cas? Guts?"

"Sir Griffith fled on the wagon he was in," Charlotte said. "The others pursued him. We stayed behind to look after you. Casca told us to use that Portkey thing if we were in danger."

Harry turned to look at them, and then looked off into the distance. "…Look," he said in despair.

He heard their gasps when they saw what he saw, in the distance. A massive tornado, ravaging the ground not far away. He hurried towards it, swaying from the effects of magical exhaustion, only lightly alleviated by his sleep. But he knew Casca was in trouble. And yet, somehow, he knew, with a strange fatalistic demeanour that he normally didn't have, that it would be too late.

As they neared, Harry heard a familiar voice. "Harry!"

Harry whirled to find Rickert running up. "Rickert! What the hell are you doing here? Where's the others?!"

"…Dead. All dead," he said quietly, or as quietly as he could over the sound of the nearby maelstrom. His gaze was haunted, and Harry knew that the youngest member of the Band of the Hawk was telling the truth. He'd seen horrors no child, even one seasoned by battle, should ever see. "These…monsters attacked them, like Zodd. I was only saved by a guy in armour like a skeleton…LOOK!"

Rickert pointed at the base of the whirlwind, and they watched as a pair of very familiar figures clashed. "What in God's name…?" Anna whimpered.

"…What are those two? Is that the Skull Knight you spoke of, Harry?" Charlotte asked.

Harry nodded. "And that monster? That's Nosferatu Zodd." Feeling a surge of anger, he began heading towards where the two monsters clashed. They knew this was coming, he realised. This was what both Zodd and the Skull Knight had alluded to. If what he saw in his dream was any indication of reality, they knew about this.

But before he could get to them, he swooned again, feeling like something had smashed into him…

* * *

And then, he was in in a very familiar place. The grounds of Hogwarts. But he was not alone.

Curled up, in a foetal position, was a familiar dark-skinned figure, completely naked, huddling into itself. Panicked, almost infantile gasping reached his ears. "…Why…why…why…why…why?" The same word, over and over again, rapidly, words that had lost all meaning, becoming a sobbing gasp that only resembled a word.

Harry inched forward, his hand gently touching her shoulder. "Cas…"

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" Casca screamed, batting his arm away violently, before leaping onto him, and bearing him to the ground of this realm. For a moment, repulsion, fear, despair, hatred and anger warred on her face, until recognition lit up in her eyes. "Harry…what are you…I…where are we?"

"…I don't know." Then, he realised he did know, with complete certainty. "…No, this is my soul. This is Hogwarts, Cas. But…what are you doing here?"

She got off him, and to her feet, covering her nudity. "…Don't look at me…please…"

"Cas, what's wrong? Please, tell me. I saw something of what happened. You're trapped in that demonic realm, right? And those things, those demons…the Godhand…they offered Griffith…"

"…Power. In exchange for us." Her hand slid down a little off her left breast, revealing the mark of that symbol he saw Void manipulate, branded there, and bleeding. Tears flowed from her eyes, just as blood flowed from that brand. "Judeau…he helped me survive…said you were waiting for me…but…Griffith…no, Femto, they called him…those demons captured me, and…he…he…even as I speak, _he is_ _ **violating**_ _me_."

Harry felt ice flow through his veins at Casca's admission. He hugged her to him, and while she squirmed, reluctant to accept his embrace, he sobbed, "Casca…I'm sorry…I'm sorry…listen, we're going to get you out of there. Everyone I can save from those monsters, I will, even if I have to force the Skull Knight to get me there. But…how did you end up here?"

"…I don't know. The pain of this brand…Griffith's betrayal…seeing everyone die in front of me…Pippin, Corkus, Gaston, Judeau…I think I wanted to retreat from it all…and at first, I began to shrink inwards…until…I found a way out. A way to retreat away from myself, rather than inwards." She looked up at him, her face twisting into a scowl. "And just before Griffith…no, Femto did this to me…he whispered in my ear. He wants this to hurt you."

Harry's expression became flat. Only his emerald eyes betrayed his fury. "…He's going to wish he didn't succeed…"

* * *

And then, Harry was back in reality, with the concerned faces of Rickert, Charlotte and Anna standing over him. He got unsteadily to his feet, before taking the Portkeys he had been working on, and hurled them to Rickert and Charlotte. "Use them," he snarled, as he began storming up to the Skull Knight and Zodd, who had stopped their fight and were watching him approach. "Say, 'Mischief Managed'."

"Mischief managed?" Charlotte asked, as she and Anna grasped the rope, only to disappear with a shriek.

"Harry, where are they?" Rickert demanded.

"Godo's! Now go!" Harry roared, before he reached the Skull Knight, and aimed his spear at him. "You. You will take me to Casca, and anyone else who has survived that slaughter. Now."

Zodd chuckled. " ** _The pup has a loud bark, but_** …"

Harry sent a wordless Cutting Curse, and the demonic entity snarled in pain. Unfortunately, it didn't cut deep, but Harry kept his gaze on the Skull Knight. What he got was a gauntleted hand pulling him onto the horse. " ** _This one delayed me from helping your friends_** ," the Skull Knight said.

"Even so, you could have given us more warning than, ' _Ooh, death and destruction is coming_ '," Harry retorted.

"... ** _Would you have believed me? And even if I had, the Godhand has a tendency to get its own way._** "

Zodd snarled. " ** _Go if you must, but our battles are far from over, my fated foe._** "

Harry held on tight to the Skeleton Knight's armour. "…You know, your ribs make good handholds," he said, his anxiety causing him to babble. That, and he could feel Casca within his soul, her own anxiety, fear, disgust and anger mingling with his own. "Come on, hurry!"

" ** _We will. Prepare youself._** " The horse beneath them tensed, and then…

* * *

He wasn't sure what happened. By the time he became aware again, they were galloping down from the hellish sky, towards the massive hand he had seen in his nightmare, his vision. The quartet of demonic figures perched on that edifice, while below, he could see demons dogpiling a squirming, bloodsoaked figure that, judging by the howls of hatred, pain and fury, was Guts. And there, just before him…

Was Griffith and Casca. No, not Griffith. The **_thing_** he had become. Clad in black leather, like a diabolical parody of the hawk-like armour he wore, only made of glossy black flesh. And that monster was thrusting into Casca, violating her vacant body, before hurling it down to sprawl bonelessly on the ground with all the contempt given to a sack of garbage.

Harry barely noticed when the Skull Knight attacked Void, only to have his sword strike redirected by a portal, barely heeding the shield that came up to block the redirected sword. All he saw was Casca's violated body, Guts, now missing an eye and screaming in pain, anger and hatred, and the man whom they had once trusted, once looked up to as a leader, now a monster.

Anger filled him as they ended up on the hellish ground comprised of faces. Harry didn't care about the Apostles gathering around him. He didn't care about anything but his comrades, his friends. And he knew this anger was not just his own. He felt Casca's own anger at seeing her own body like that. He let it merge with his own, make it stronger.

And then, he looked at Femto, the monster who was once their commander giving him a cold smirk. No words were spoken by him. None were needed. His smirk said it all. That he had hurt Harry deeply, out of spite, out of desire, out of evil. He saw the Apostles gathering, sneering, leering and jeering at the young wizard. He saw the Godhand, peering at him out of curiosity, wondering what he would do next.

He brought up his staff slowly, deliberately, let it fill with every ounce of magical energy he had left. Hate and fury, both his own and Casca's, and perhaps even Guts' too, lent him a strength he would have otherwise lacked. And he let it loose, in a roar that made even this demonic demesne tremble, before cursed fire leapt forth, and consumed everything before him.

" ** _FIENDFYRE!_** "

 **CHAPTER 18 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **So, there you have it. The Eclipse. If you feel that I've skipped around somewhat, allow me to elucidate why.**

 **First, I've written the story like this already, if you haven't noticed. There was a lot of abridgement of the events of** ** _Berserk_** **. This was, admittedly, due to the lack of familiarity I had with the series prior to writing this, beyond the Golden Age films and the Nineties anime. In fact, a lot of the early parts of the fic was cribbed from deathbearABC123's** ** _Harry Potter and the Berserker_** **, and I owe a lot to them for this. So this isn't so different from my usual writing style.**

 **Secondly, I have to admit, I want to finish this fic soon. Lately, I haven't been finishing that many fics, as many of my followers may have noticed, and I'd like to get at least one fic (aside from oneshots) finished this year. I'm hoping to get others finished, but this one is perhaps the easiest to. I have perhaps two or three chapters left after this one.**

 **Last, but certainly not least, the Eclipse is a shocking event, horrifying, depressing and disturbing. I didn't want to write that verbatim, and I'm sure a few of you are relieved that I didn't. What I wrote was doubtlessly bad enough.**

 **Now, onto some other things to discuss. Specifically, deathbearABC123 have finally finished their own fic. _Harry Potter and the Berserker_ is over, with a suitably bittersweet ending. If you haven't checked it out, do that. I owe deathbearABC123 that much for pestering them for help on ****_Berserk_** **'s lore.**

 **Anyway, dunno when the next chapter will be out, but hopefully, it will be soon.**

 **No numbered annotations this time.**


	24. Chapter 19: Aftershocks

**CHAPTER 19:**

 **AFTERSHOCKS**

The first thing that came back was the sensation of tiredness and pain, an ache that settled into his very bones. The second was hearing voices. One was raised in anger, the other, filled with cold fury.

"…Wrong. Lord Griffith wouldn't do that!"

"Are you calling me a liar? Casca a liar?" A sound of someone being grabbed, and a squeal of pain. "Listen to me, you pampered little brat. The Griffith you fell in love with is dead! He died thanks to your father in that damned Tower of Conviction, and that monster was born in his place! Or do you think I gouged out my eye myself?! Or that Harry and Casca could have a child that looked like that?!"

Harry groaned, sitting up gingerly, opening his eyes to find that Guts, looking the worse for wear, had grabbed Charlotte's dress from the front, bringing her in close, a look of cold fury and hatred on his face. Harry noticed belatedly that one of Guts' eyes, his right, was now shut, and new scars littered his face. His left arm was gone too. "…Guts," he rasped. "Let her go…"

Guts and Charlotte turned to see Harry, and Charlotte twisted away from Guts, who let her go. "…How are you feeling?" Charlotte asked.

"Like something the cat dragged in and pissed all over," Harry muttered, before he coughed. He looked around. They seemed to be in some underground space, a cave or a mine of some sort. Memory came back in dribs and drabs, and he remembered, just before blacking out, how well his Fiendfyre assault did. It did virtually nothing to the Godhand, and while it roasted some Apostles, others managed to survive or even weather it. But…he couldn't do anything further before he had blacked out. "…Guts…you're alive…but Casca…is she…?"

"…She's alive. But…she's not in a good way," Guts said softly. "We're at Godo's mine. It's been six days since…I only woke up yesterday. We were worried sick about you. Casca thought it was something called magical exhaustion. It was all touch and go for a while."

"…Anyone else? Any other survivors?"

Charlotte shook her head. "Aside from yourself, the only members of the Band of the Hawk left are Guts, Casca and Rickert. Guts claims that Griffith betrayed them, for power, sacrificed them to demons, but…"

"…It's true. I saw part of it through my link with Cas," Harry said, gingerly getting to his feet. "Guts, where is she? Where is Cas?"

After a moment, Guts pointed, to where part of the cave had a natural pool nearby, fed through a small waterfall from above. There, getting soaked while in a white shift, was Casca, the now transparent clothing clinging to her body, her arms wrapped around themselves. Harry began walking down to the pool, wading through the water. Something about the situation didn't feel right.

"Cas…?" he asked softly, reaching out a hand to touch her, only to have it smacked away. His legs were swept out from beneath him, and he slammed into the pool, Casca on him in a flash, lips bared in a snarl, fist cocked back to punch him, only for her brown eyes to widen in shock.

"Harry? Oh God, I…I'm…I'm sorry, I…" She began to hyperventilate, while Guts helped Harry to his feet.

"…Cas…it's okay," Harry said. He smiled wanly. "…That's what I get for sneaking up on you after…after…everything you went through. Do…do you want a hug?"

After a moment, Casca nodded, and he gently embraced her. He didn't fail to notice her tensing in his embrace, but he hugged her, even as she began to sob. Eventually, Guts joined in, and the three of them stood there, in the pool, just trying to come to terms with the fact that they had survived, and yet, their comrades had not…

* * *

Casca eventually left the mine, and Harry followed, Guts in tow. They were in silence the whole way, save for when Guts identified the building up ahead as the residence of Godo, his habitual blacksmith. Casca disappeared into a room, before coming out, dressed in something not unlike her usual clothes. However, Harry had noticed that Casca had been broken. Fear and anxiety danced in her chocolate eyes.

Rickert was soon beckoned away from where he and a girl (whose name turned out to be Erica) were with a hunched over but muscled old man, who was Godo. They gathered just outside the forge, while Charlotte and Anna went about their business elsewhere. An unsettling silence fell on them all, before Harry finally broke it.

"It all happened, didn't it? Griffith betrayed us, for power. I saw it like in a dream, no, a nightmare, as if I was looking through Cas' eyes. He got offered power by that Godhand or whatever they were called…and he took it."

Guts nodded solemnly, as did Casca. "…Is this my fault?" Harry asked. "I tore strips off him while he was healing, but…"

"No," Casca said, glaring at Harry. "This is not your fault. Guts triggered this by leaving, but…the King tortured Griffith, and Griffith made his choice. I think he would have done it even if you hadn't berated him. I was…I was just too angry to see how desperate his condition would have made him. And that thing…that wasn't Griffith, not the one we knew. That was Femto, and he…he…" She began to hyperventilate again.

"…I know," Harry said quietly.

"No, you don't," Guts said, shaking his head. "Last night…Casca gave birth to…something."

"…Gave birth?" Harry asked in horror. "Then when Griffith raped you…that was his child?"

"…No," Casca said, tears trickling down her cheeks. "It was _yours._ _ **Ours**_. It had your eyes, Harry. A beautiful emerald eye…and yet…and yet…"

"The Skull Knight said it was corrupted by Femto's seed," Guts growled. "You were going to have a child, and that bastard…"

Harry felt his mind seize up. He was going to have a child with Cas? But the only time he had had sex with her recently was…oh. And he'd forgotten to use a Contraceptive Charm. And Griffith…Femto, he had…he had…

With a primal roar of fury, Harry surged to his feet, and began firing Cutting Curses and Blasting Hexes at the landscape. Every time he fired, he saw Femto's face, smirking at him smugly. He knew. He knew. He fucking well _knew!_ The anger he felt towards Griffith since Guts' departure and the subsequent events had nothing compared to what he felt now. It was like comparing a napalm bomb to a nuclear weapon.

"YOU BASTARD!" he screamed up at the sky. "YOU MONSTROUS FUCKING RAPIST BASTARD! YOU COULDN'T BE CONTENT WITH FUCKING OUR LIVES OVER BECAUSE YOU WERE SORE OVER GUTS LEAVING! NO, YOU HAD TO RUIN OUR CHILD! OUR CHILD! YOU RAPED CAS, YOU MAIMED GUTS, YOU MURDERED OUR FRIENDS AND COMRADES, AND YOU HAD THE GALL TO FUCKING **_SMILE WHILE DOING IT!_** I'LL KILL YOU, GRIFFITH! I WILL TRACK YOU DOWN TO WHATEVER HELLHOLE YOU'RE COWERING IN AND FUCKING KILL YOU DEAD! I KILLED VOLDEMORT, I CAN KILL YOU TOO! YOU HEAR ME, FEMTO?!"

"Calm down, Harry!" Rickert pleaded.

"Calm down?!" Harry snapped, whirling on Rickert. "He murdered the entire Band of the Hawk, barring the four of us! Guts and Casca have been through the closest thing this world has to Hell, and Griffith, Femto, he sacrificed our comrades for power! And what he did to Casca…how the hell do you think I can be calm?" His face fell, and in a quieter, but bleaker tone of voice, he said, "My child…I was gonna be a father, and…"

Casca held up a hand, silencing him. Some small vestige of the commander she was had taken hold. "I know, Harry. But…we need to think of our next step."

"Next step?" Guts asked. "…Casca, you're barely holding it together."

"I know that, Guts!" Casca snapped. "But…I'm not going to go to pieces if I can help it. When that nobleman tried to rape me, I took up the sword to defend myself. I very nearly fell apart when Femto…did what he did. As you said, I'm barely holding myself together. I think it's only thanks to Harry that I'm still remotely sane. But I'm not going to sit around in that damned cave forever, even if the Skull Knight said it repels those spirits."

"…What?" Harry asked.

Guts indicated the brand on the back of his neck, identical to the one Casca had on her breast. "Bonehead said that this brand attracts evil spirits at night. A dinner gong, in other words, for all sorts of nasties trying to possess us or kill us. The cave was touched by the Elves once, Fairy Iron lining the walls. Casca and I…we've disagreed a little on our next course of action. I intend to slaughter my way through those monsters until I can find a way to get Griffith to show his mug. Casca wanted to wait until you were awake, and track down someone who might know something about the Godhand and these brands. Something about a witch at Enoch."

Harry looked over at Casca, and then at Guts. Before he could say anything, Guts shook his head. "I'll only get you two into more danger. Without the Raiders, without the Band of the Hawk…I'm just a guy who is really good with swinging a sword around. I heal best by myself, killing things that need killing, but you two…you need each other. Even if killing all those monsters doesn't get me closer to Griffith, less of those damned things in the world is only a good thing. And once you two have learned all you can from that witch, assuming you find her, you can hook up with me again. But…Casca needs to heal. What Griffith did to her…you can't just flip a switch and ensure she's okay again. But you're her best shot of healing, Harry. You, and this witch."

Casca looked at Guts, before she shook her head. "You really are such a stubborn bastard, aren't you, Guts? Going off and doing your own thing, even if it gets you killed? You haven't changed that much at all. Very well, then. As Commander of the Band of the Hawk, what little there is of it, I order you…search and destroy. Kill every Apostle that preys on the people of this world. Show them the same mercy they show us. Save those who cower under their shadow, and stop those who help them willingly. And as my last order, Guts…" Her chocolate eyes narrowed. "Don't you _dare_ die until we are ready to rejoin you."

Guts gave a feral grin, one filled with malice more than mirth. "Aye-aye, Commander…"

* * *

Casca had been holding herself together for that meeting, but Harry noticed her commanding mask beginning to slip. The four of them headed back into Godo's forge. The old man was working on something. "Boy, I need you to work on the crossbow attachment for this," he said to Rickert. As the boy nodded, and went to work, Godo looked up at Harry. "You're the wizard this idiot spoke a lot about, huh?"

"Yeah, Harry Potter. Thanks for looking after him, and us, after the…after everything."

Godo nodded curtly, and went to work. "I'm making a new arm for Guts. It's not fancy, but it'll allow him to fight."

"Fancy?" Casca asked incredulously. "You said you were putting a small cannon into it, never mind magnetising it so he could wield a sword. I'd call it fancy…in a really practical way."

Godo shrugged. "And?"

Harry, meanwhile, found his attention brought to a rather large shape nearby. "…Is that a sword?"

"Casca asked about that," Guts said. "Apparently Godo was asked by Charlotte's grandfather to create a sword capable of killing a dragon."

Harry stared at it. While it roughly had the shape of a sword, it was too big, massive, heavy and rough to be called something as elegant as a sword. It was more of a lump of raw iron, shaped into a blade. "…I can believe that."

"Your commander told me that you once faced down a dragon," Godo said. "Do you reckon that could kill it?"

Harry looked the sword up and down, before nodding. "…Maybe. Depends on who's wielding it. Guts…you're not thinking of…"

"Already did. Bit tricky with only one hand, but…"

Casca scoffed. "You and your thing for big swords, Guts…"

* * *

Casca knew she was barely holding it together. Guts leaving, Griffith's imprisonment, being hunted down, Harry being trapped, the prison break, the Eclipse…and her commanding officer, a man she once loved and adored, not only betrayed her for power, but he…he…

 _He_ _ **raped**_ _her_.

Some coldly objective part of Casca thought it a perverse irony that the man who saved her from a rapist would end up perpetrating the same deed on her person. The rest of her was repulsed by the whole thing, struggling to comprehend how that man did so. She knew better than to believe Harry considered her soiled by the act. She knew him too well, he blamed the rapist, not the raped. So too did Guts, having experienced it himself thanks to Gambino's actions, and for all the hulking swordsman's brusque and crude demeanour, he'd helped comfort her as best as he could when he woke. But the act, and the birth of that grotesque child, the one that vanished with the dawn before they could decide what to do with it, did a number on her. She was barely holding onto her sanity.

She couldn't help but scratch at the brand she had been given, the vile little thing. She remembered Void proclaiming that this meant her soul was Femto's to claim. Yes…Femto…not Griffith. Griffith, the true Griffith, wouldn't have done that.

But Harry had come. Her soul had retreated into his own, she knew this with utter conviction now. He had saved her once more. If not, who knew how the pain from the brand and the trauma of being raped by the demon that was once her beloved commander would have affected her?

She knew she was still only holding herself together barely. But it was a mask. Inside, she was chipped, cracked, broken. Only sheer force of will kept her psyche from falling apart.

She was wandering the woods near the mine, when she heard a by-now familiar clopping of hooves, and a dark presence. "…What do you want?" she asked bitterly.

" ** _The same thing you want, Warrior. The end of the Godhand._** "

Casca scoffed. "You could have told us sooner, about what the Behelit would do."

"… ** _Would you have believed me? You thought Griffith, the mortal frame of the one now called Femto, to be a paragon, one who could do little wrong. Even with the warning Nosferatu Zodd gave you, you believed otherwise. I heard your words, that you would prove me wrong, that you would fight your way out of Hell. You survived, Warrior._** "

"Only because you brought Harry into the Eclipse on time. And even then…" She shivered, clutching herself, her breath coming in pants of fear.

Cold, gauntleted hands clutched her shoulders, but even as she flinched, more from the contact than the cold, she realised how gentle the contact was. "… ** _The Wizard changed more than I believed. I know of the bond between you two, between your souls. It was that that allowed you to keep your sanity, Warrior_** ," the Skull Knight said softly. " ** _Femto's vile actions would otherwise have caused your psyche to utterly shatter. And yet, here you are._** "

"…Here I am. And yet, so many others, Judeau, Pippin, Corkus, Gaston…all dead. Sacrificed to allow Femto to be born. Is there any point to us going on? Trying to stop them?"

"… ** _I do not know. But is there no point in trying? In striving? You, Warrior, you, the Struggler, and the Wizard have one thing in common. Your willpower is strong. You are filled with determination. I cannot say whether you will achieve what you desire in the future. To go against the Godhand requires more power than you have. And even then, they are but the hand of a greater power. But…without willpower, without determination, strength means little._** "

"…Helpful as always," Casca said sardonically. "But…I need to ask…are you Gaiseric?"

"… ** _Gaiseric died long ago. There is naught left of that man than dust and shadow and lingering feelings. What I am is a ghost whose time passed long ago, and yet who lingers to try and do some good for the world._** "

"…I call bullshit," came the familiar voice of Harry. Casca turned to see Harry past the figure of the Skull Knight. "The only reason I'm not more pissed at you is because you said Zodd prevented you from trying to help us."

" ** _I also assisted your comrade, the boy, Rickert_** ," the Skull Knight said. " ** _He was the only one of your rearguard I could save from the Apostles who feasted there. But yes. I did wish to help you. Zodd interfered, not because he desired your suffering, but rather, another battle with me. Where do you intend to go?_** "

"…Enoch. There's a witch there, one who might be able to help us learn."

While the Skull Knight's helmet did nothing but grin its usual macabre grin, Casca was sure she heard a proper smile in the entity's voice upon hearing that. " ** _A good choice. The Struggler intends to wage war on the Apostles, which in itself will only do good for the world. But the witch…I know her. Lady Flora…she has been a friend for a long time. I believe she has taken on an apprentice the last time I met with her. And should you find things lacking there…perhaps you should consider seeking out Elfhelm on the Isle of Skellig, and the Flower Storm Monarch. However, be warned: Flora's domicile is protected by powerful magic. You cannot send your Portkey there._** "

"…I think we'll take the scenic route anyway," Casca said. "Even with those evil spirits coming after us because of this brand, I think I need it. I need time to reflect, to come to terms with…with…"

"And I'll be there with her," Harry declared, firmly, solemnly. "I'll be there for her."

" ** _Then I wish you both the best of luck. While this may not have been your darkest hour, for who knows what tomorrow will bring, you, Warrior, have survived something few have. So has the Struggler. And you, Wizard, you have kept them both sane. The Godhand fear you. Whose hand do you think was behind your imprisonment in stasis? You are a stone thrown in the waters of causality. And what happens to the ripples, I do not know, and neither will they. Take heed of that, and take heart_** …"

* * *

They spent some more days there, waiting. Tempers cooled enough, and Charlotte and Anna agreed to stay with Godo, at least until they received word of the King's passing. Only then would they emerge from hiding. Charlotte still seemed reluctant to believe Griffith had done what he did, but no arguments erupted.

Guts got his new arm and armaments (Harry putting the emergency Portkey enchantment onto it), taking the massive sword, the Dragonslayer. Farewells were made. And as they walked away from Godo's home, ready to part ways once they needed to, Harry and Casca looked at Guts. "You ready?" Harry asked.

"Yeah. I've got that paired diary thing. I…I want to hear from you, hear how you're doing. Both of you. The three of us…we're heading into dark times. Worse than before. Harry…you look after Casca."

"Don't worry. We'll look after each other. But…you still sure you don't want to come with us?"

"My mind's made up. We get stronger in our own ways, and cope in our own ways. You two, get whatever knowledge you can, get healed up. Once you guys are ready…come find me."

"…Don't you dare die, Guts," Casca said. "As Commander of the Band of the Hawk, diminished though it is, I am the one who decides where you die. And it won't be before we meet again, and certainly not for a long time after that. You hear me?"

"Yeah."

With that, the three survivors walked on. They would struggle against a fate that had been set out for them, by monsters that influenced the world, and the power behind them. Against demons and evil gods, the three of them would struggle, contend, and endure.

And perhaps, by some slim chance, maybe they would prevail…

 **CHAPTER 19 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **So, there you have it. The post-Eclipse stuff.**

 **Now, writing Casca after the Eclipse, but still sane, was a bit hard. I needed to balance the obvious trauma she went through, with her being functional. Because retreating into Harry's soul helped shield her from the worst of what happened, she's sane, albeit barely. In order to cope, she's trying to go back into her commander personality to hold herself together. But she's merely burying the trauma, and not with much success, being just able to stay functional and barely sane. I hope I haven't stuffed it up.**

 **Anyway, just one more chapter to go.**

 **No numbered annotations this time.**


	25. Epilogue: The Continuing Struggle

**EPILOGUE:**

 **THE CONTINUING STRUGGLE AGAINST FATE**

Casca had come a long way, she knew. While the wounds inflicted on her heart, mind and soul during the Eclipse hadn't healed completely, she was now better, close to what she was before the Eclipse, no, before Griffith was imprisoned. Guts' departure, Griffith vanishing, and her argument with Harry, those opened up the cracks that the Eclipse used as shatterpoints. And while cracks were still there, she felt better.

She felt stronger too. Although she never mastered the magic of this world as much as either Harry or Schierke did, she could use it, teaming up with Harry to strengthen their spells, though she still specialised in swordplay. She was now back to her physical peak…no, better.

She could never be as strong as Guts, wielding the Dragonslayer with seemingly little effort. Nor could she be as powerful as Harry was in magic, and certainly not as versatile. But she could get stronger, hone her skills. She was their commander, something she almost forgot. With Griffith having betrayed them, become Femto, the Band of the Hawk, for all that there were only four of them left, needed a leader.

Rickert's mission was to protect Charlotte and Anna from the forces searching for them. Guts was to thin out the Apostles. And Casca and Harry were to find out what they can about the Godhand, the Apostles, and the Behelits, as well as train themselves.

Admittedly, Flora couldn't offer them much in the way of concrete information about the Godhand. She alluded to them being puppets of a higher, or rather, a lower power, but she didn't know exactly what it was, only that it existed, deep within the layers of the Astral World, right at the bottom. But she also taught them much about magic. Harry had become more powerful. But would it be enough to take on the Godhand?

Then again, of all the Godhand, it was Femto she wanted to kill, that Harry and Guts wanted to kill. Even now, she couldn't escape the feeling of being violated by him that haunted her memories and nightmares. And seeing him again only unearthed the old memories.

However, there was one bit of good news. Casca had managed to overcome the last of her fear of intimacy a little while ago. It wasn't absent, rather, she was able to bed Harry without her having flashbacks to Femto. Flora helped with her counselling, and some concoctions, helping mitigate the worst of it.

She still couldn't have children. What Femto did to her couldn't be undone. Harry had considered seeing if he could find a way back to Earth, try something called IVF and see if that worked, and Casca was actually considering it. Having a child was not the be-all and end-all of her existence, but it would be a nice thing to have with Harry.

They already had one child, true, and like Harry, Casca's feelings of disgust and fear had given way to pity, and a desire to help the demonically-tainted creature. Perhaps she could find a way of restoring what its form should have been, though Flora admitted, even she didn't know if it was possible. Sometimes, she joined Harry in watching and contemplating their child, and wondering whether they could restore them to what they should have been.

It had been two years since the Eclipse now. Two years since they departed Godo's smithy for this place. Casca wasn't sure whether they had learned anything truly new, and yet, this time was needed, to heal, and to train. Guts' last missive in the diary said that he was heading to Misty Valley, having heard rumours of something happening there.

Their bonds had grown with Flora and Schierke. They felt like family. And yet…Casca felt ill at ease. Their time here was not one of indolence and idleness, and yet, Guts was seemingly doing more. And what was more, Casca couldn't help but shake a feeling of foreboding. That something terrible was about to happen, or perhaps already had.

She was sitting on a log, cleaning her sword, when she sensed Schierke sitting down next to him. "You're leaving soon, aren't you?" the young witch asked.

"…I don't know when, but yes. I've got this sense of foreboding. Something's going to happen soon."

"…I agree. So does Mistress Flora and Harry," the green-haired girl said. "But…we don't know what. The Eclipse is only supposed to happen every 216 years, and it's only been two. And there's five members of the Godhand now. That logically suggests that they have a full complement…which itself is disturbing. If they have a full complement…what are their plans now?"

"Nothing good, that's all I can say," Casca said, watching as the dumpy form of a golem waddled by.

"There is one thing, actually. Harry's using his Astral Form to try and track down Guts, see what's happening to him. But…he relayed to me that he's spotted the Holy Iron Chain Knights in the vicinity of Misty Valley. Led by that Farnese girl, along with Serpico and the Bridge Knight. It seems they haven't wholly given up on pursuing you two, or Guts. If Guts gets caught between an Apostle and the Holy Iron Chain Knights…"

Casca nodded. Guts was ridiculously tough, but he was far from invincible, and so many of his fights against Apostles led to him being injured in some way lately. If the Holy Iron Chain Knights stumbled across him after one of these battles, they might be able to capture him.

"If he gets into too much trouble, we might have to go and help him this time," Casca said. "I mean…we will come back, but I'm not sure how much more we can learn from Flora, not when so many people are suffering and dying."

Schierke looked away. "I understand. I don't like it, but I understand. You said you would come back, though."

Casca nodded, before gently hugging the young witch. "…I promise. You're family, Schierke, by choice if not by blood. My own family sold me, even if I've forgiven them for that, while you never really knew your birth parents. Neither did Harry. You're like a little sister, and a daughter both."

Schierke smiled sadly, before she touched Casca's hand. "When you leave…I'll use some of my hair to act as a link for thought transference. If nothing else, I can see what you see through your eyes, and hear what you hear, and speak to you, maybe give you advice. Just…I know you two are intimate again, so could you give me some warning before you do while you're on the road?" The young witch blushed a little, bashfully.

"Sure. It's not like Harry and I will be needing much privacy that often anyway. We've only just reached the point where we can…you know. But I'd be glad to hear your voice while we're on the road…"

* * *

Harry looked at the crystal, which was now glowing. "Is this the signal for the Portkey beacon you left with Guts' prosthetic arm?" Casca asked.

Harry nodded. "I've been watching what he was doing, on and off. There was an Apostle…called Rosine, wanted to be Queen of the Elves. She was twisted and monstrous, and yet…something about her was pitiable. Guts managed to stop her, saving this girl called Jill from Rosine, but…the Holy Iron Chain Knights have caught up to him. Between his wounds from fighting Rosine, his fatigue, and Azan beating the crap out of him, Guts is now their prisoner. They broke part of his prosthetic. I'm not sure he needs rescue on his own…but I still intend to go."

"And after that point?" Flora asked.

"…Travel with Guts for a little while. You said something is coming. If there's any way we can stop something truly bad from happening, or from getting worse, we'll do it," Harry said grimly.

"…Perhaps." Flora looked contemplative, pensive. "…It may be that the coming event is not unlike the Eclipse in horror. Perhaps my old friend knows something."

"If only he was less cryptic with the advice," Harry muttered. "We'll try and come back once everything is a bit more settled. After that…"

"Skellig," Casca decided. "If nothing else, the Flower Storm Monarch might have something more to tell us."

"True," Flora conceded. "I am knowledgeable about magic and the Astral World, but I do not know everything, or even a large fraction thereof, not of the subjects you wish to know about. If you do head to Skellig…take Schierke with you."

Harry and Casca looked at the young witch, before they both nodded.

* * *

Their preparations were hasty, but not overly so. They prepared, checked, and double-checked with as much swiftness as they could manage. Harry, with Flora's help, had found that, while Guts' prosthetic arm was damaged enough to trigger the Portkey signal, it was still moving, presumably with Guts, and the Holy Iron Chain Knights. The Portkey, therefore, was modified to leave them a safe distance away from where Guts was being held.

"So, what's the plan, Cas?" Harry asked as they used Disillusionment Charms to conceal themselves during their approach. It was now afternoon.

"You distract these idiots," Casca said. "I'll go and find Guts. We'll have to find somewhere to lay low for the night. I hope you can draw that seal on Guts' brand."

"It'll take time. Do you reckon we should take a hostage? It might hold off any pursuit until we're far away enough to have a breather."

"…Maybe. You brought up that greenhorn girl, Farnese de Vandimion. I might go for her. Fanatics like her, going on about God…if there really is a God, why wasn't he there at the Eclipse?"

"…Maybe a god was, but maybe it was more of a devil," Harry mused. "What else but an evil god would have angels like the Godhand?"

"…Never mind that. Okay, I'm splitting off now," Casca said. "Give me a minute, and then start raising hell."

Harry grinned. "Cas, you really know how to say the sweetest things."

Casca scurried off. No farewells were needed. No goodbyes. Because they knew they would see each other soon. He had faith in her. Not in any god, cruel or benign. He had faith in her. Complete and utter faith. It was more concrete than anything.

He remembered something Flora had brought up, more as a philosophical question. Was the destiny of humanity governed by transcendental law, or by some entity, like the hand of God? It was a truth that many humans had no control over their destiny, and over their own will. And yet, there were those who fought, contended, and struggled against this fate.

And there was another thing that Flora had shared with him, a speculation as to what the Godhand truly served. She posited the fact that gods could be created, instead of being creators. And perhaps, deep in the abyssal layers of the Astral World, something dark was born of a human desire to have an origin of all that was evil in the world. An Idea of Evil as it were, the dark heart of all human souls.

If there was something like that responsible for the misery he, Guts and Casca had gone through, he was going to stab it. Preferably in whatever passed for its dick for starters.

Still, that was for another time. A vicious grin touched his lips. He had a job to do, one that he did exceedingly well at, one that was in the blood, given his Marauder heritage.

Causing chaos.

* * *

From a distance, a figure dressed in skeletal armour watched as the camp of the Holy Iron Chain Knights dissolved into chaos, like an ant nest that had been kicked. Behind the helmet, whatever remained of the man who wore the armour smiled, though whether it was with lips, or some spectral wisp, few knew. But there was a smile all the same.

The Struggler, a single-minded fighter who had been born from death itself. The Warrior, a woman who had fought all her life against the preconceptions of society. And the Wizard, the pebble in the pond, the edge of the coin, a herald of chaos.

Soon, they would be forced to confront the next advent of the one they had once loved, and now loathed. But even then, the future was far from certain, not as fixed as it once was. He would warn them about what was to come…but what could they do? Some parts were fixed. But other parts? Could more people be saved? Would others die? Who could say? This chaos obscured the future. But it was not a chaos the Skull Knight was afraid of. In his long, long life, a period of existence that spanned over a millennium, he had seen many different kinds of chaos.

And this chaos…it had the potential for good or evil. For triumph and defeat. All that was needed was to navigate it, and find victory against the forces of darkness.

Navigating chaos was a struggle. But then, so was life. A never-ending struggle. And after so many years, the Skull Knight, after seeing Guts, Casca, and Harry in action, allowed a small ember of hope to be kindled. That perhaps their actions could do some good for the world. Nothing was certain, and perhaps it was little more than a comforting lie, a dream of victory. But perhaps it could become truth.

Dreams were dangerous, seductive things. But sometimes, they may just come true.

 **THE END**

 **EPILOGUE ANNOTATIONS:**

 **So, there you have it. The conclusion to** ** _Ubi Amor, Ibi Dolor_** **. True, there's the possibility of a sequel set during the Conviction Arc, but sequels to my works have palled for me, lately, so there's no guarantee of one.**

 **I'm sorry if this ending is a bit rushed, guys. But…well, I wanted to end it by this point in the story from the beginning. I wanted to end the main story with the Golden Age's end, and the framing story with the beginning of the Conviction Arc.**

 **If I do do the Conviction Arc, and there's no guarantee of that, I might bring in some Potterverse characters, who have finally tracked down Harry. One thing I'm definitely doing is bumping off Nina. I despise her. Luca, on the other hand, is now one of my favourite characters who isn't part of the regulars.**

 **Anyway…I hope you guys have enjoyed this fic. I can't guarantee a sequel, but if I manage to write some of it, I'll post an update chapter. Otherwise…well, here it is. Completed, like the fic that inspired it. I owe the fact this fic exists to deathbearABC123 and** ** _Harry Potter and the Berserker_** **. Thank you very much for your help in formulating this story, even if it's inferior to your work.**

 **Well, this is it. Thank you, and hope you enjoyed it.**

 **No numbered annotations this time.**


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